An Autumn's Tale
by GilFeir
Summary: After having stayed in Rivendell for a year, it is time for Legolas to journey back to Mirkwood. Aragorn, never having been there, accompanies him. But, there are dangers on the road.
1. Leaving

**Hello,**

**I am glad to see you all back! I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last story. It made my day. (huge grin)**

**I know I said I would post sooner, but the stupid internet provider decided to kick me out and it took me so long to get online again.**

**I hope you enjoy this new story! Let me know what you think of it.**

**

* * *

Title: An autumn's tale**

**Author:** Gil Feir

**Rating:** Not sure yet. Guess K and later higher

**Genre:** Slash. What else?

**Warning:** Much smut and slash, some quite explicit scenes.

**Disclaimer:** Same old, same old.

**Summary:** After having stayed in Rivendell for the winter, spring and summer, it is time for Legolas to journey back to Mirkwood. Aragorn, never having been there, accompanies him. But, there are dangers on the road, and when they met up with a hoard of orcs, Legolas and Aragorn must fight for their lives to survive.

**A/N:** This is the fourth (and last) part of the °Seasons' Tales°. The reading order is: **A winter's tale**, **A spring's tale**, **A summer's tale** and **An autumn's tale**.

Chapter 1: Leaving

Legolas could not help but glance over his shoulder at the elves that rode behind him. One of the riders caught his look and nodded his head. Smiling back politely but sighing inwardly in frustration, Legolas returned his attention to the road in front of him. Beside him, Aragorn was deep in conversation with one of the elves that accompanied them. The young man had not noticed his frustration, and for a very tiny moment envy grew in Legolas's heart. How did Aragorn do this?

They had been on the road for almost three weeks now and had just left the Misty Mountains behind them. The road they followed meandered like a river down the eastern side of the mountains, it was rocky and steep at times, so that many times the riders could only ride in single file or had to lead their horses by hand. In but a week they would reach the river Anduin and cross it at the Old Ford, then follow the Old Forrest Road for a short while before turning North. They would enter Mirkwood close to the Forest River and then follow the water's path to the Caves of the Mirkwood elves. Legolas had made this journey many a time, but never, never, had he wished to finally reach his home so much.

Since the first day of their journey, nay, since the moment they had left Imladris, Legolas had felt the presence of the other elves like a burden on his shoulders. They were warriors of Rivendell and guards that Lord Elrond had send with them on their journey; and while a part of Legolas was grateful for their presence, he also despised them…every day a tiny bit more.

It was as if the elves had been given the order to not let Aragorn out of their sight. The ranger could make no step that went unnoticed by the elves or that was not watched over. As soon as the man yawned, the warriors suggested a rest, when he frowned without any apparent reason, they asked if he was well, and when he sneezed, they gathered around him like a flock of overprotective mother hens.

At this thought, Legolas actually snorted, earning him a raised eyebrow from one of the warriors that rode at his side. Rolling his eyes at his own actions, Legolas spurred his horse onwards. The sooner they reached his home, the better, after all.

Legolas did not truly understand why he felt so irritated by the elves' protectiveness. After all, only a few weeks ago Aragorn had been injured in a terrible forest fire in which they had both almost died. Aragorn's injuries had healed enough for him to go on this journey, but of course his father, Lord Elrond, would feel the need to give his youngest son some extra protection. And, Legolas had to admit grudgingly, the journey to Mirkwood was a dangerous one. Every able bodied warrior was always accepted gratefully, every sword or bow welcome. Legolas glanced at Aragorn, who was still conversing with one of the warriors of Imladris . Maybe, he thought, Lord Elrond had not only thought to protect his son from wolves and trolls on this journey. A small shudder raced down Legolas's spine when he thought about the other dangers that could possibly lurk around the next bend in the road. Like white haired elves that had once already tried to kill him and had almost killed Aragorn in the attempt. No, extra protection maybe had not been such a bad idea.

But that did not mean that it did not vex Legolas. With the other elves around, Legolas and Aragorn had had no private moment at all. Although they had not kept their relationship a secret, they had also not pronounced it to all of Rivendell, but had been very discreet when in public. While Legolas suspected that Lord Elrond would only have send elves with them that knew of their relationship, he could not be sure. None of the warriors had so much as spoken to him about this issue, and Legolas felt it not in him to ask them if they knew that he and Aragorn were more than just friends.

And so, Legolas did not dare to openly show his feelings towards Aragorn. He did not touch him unnecessarily, be with him for a prolonged period of time or – Valar forbid – kiss him. Oh, and he wanted to do that so much. Since the early stages of their relationship, Legolas had felt the need to be with Aragorn, to touch him and feel him. Maybe it was because he had waited for this miracle to happen for many years, and needed the reassurance that Aragorn felt the same way he did, and that he had not merely imagined things. Whatever it was, Legolas longed to touch Aragorn and to kiss him. To just feel his lover hold him close, whisper sweet nothings in his ears was enough to make him feel whole. But with the other elves around, that was not likely to happen. Even at night, when all was dark and quiet, they could not be together, for one of the Rivendell elves would always keep watch.

What irritated Legolas probably the most was not the fact that the elves were glued to Aragorn like bees to honey. No. It was the fact that Aragorn seemed to _enjoy_ the attention. Of course, he had known these elves for most of his life and some of them he even called friends. And, Legolas had to admit, it was the first time that Aragorn made the journey to Mirkwood. It was only natural that he wanted to know everything about the woods and would ask countless questions and would want to hear every and any tale that his father's warriors knew. But, Legolas thought with an irritated frown, why did Aragorn not ask _him_? He _lived_ in Mirkwood, after all, was even the Crown Prince! What could the Rivendell elves know that he did not?

But, while Aragorn had asked him many questions while they had still been in the valley, he had turned to the warriors for answers since they had seen the first outcroppings of the Misty Mountains. And since then, Legolas bathed in misery. Never before had the journey to Mirkwood seemed so long to him. With a sigh, he patted the neck of his horse and rode on, the excited chattering of Aragorn ever in the background.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Late that night, Legolas sat on a log with his left elbow on his thigh and his chin resting grumpily in his hand. With his other hand he poked with a long stick at the flickering flames of the fire. Somewhere to his right, the Rivendell elves were playing some kind of game that Legolas did not know. The elves had asked him if he wanted to join them, but he had declined the offer. Legolas felt that the elves felt his dark mood and had only asked him to join them in an attempt to lighten the darkness that seemed to engulf him. Legolas sighed and gave the flames another frustrated poke. Aragorn, he mused, seemed not to have noticed his somber mood. No. With a lopsided grin the man accepted the offer of one of the elves to accompany him on the quick patrolling trips into the surrounding woods that the elves did every evening. No, Legolas thought, Aragorn seemed to enjoy himself.

Enjoy himself with other elves….Legolas's mood declined even further as he realized that it were not the presence of the warriors that irked him so. Legolas sighed loudly and shook his head angrily as he realized, for the first time, that he was jealous! An elf, hundreds of years old, and he was jealous! Legolas could not believe it at first, but the more he thought about it, the clearer his heart told him that indeed, he was jealous.

Since the day last winter that Legolas had declared his feelings to Aragorn, he and the young human had spend all their time together. They had only been parted for short periods of time, when their duties had kept them apart, or when one of them had been forced to stay in the healing wing with Lord Elrond. Giving the flames another poke, Legolas listened to what his heart was telling him with every beat of it. Yes, he had enjoyed this time with Aragorn. Only now that the man was spending more time with others than with him, did Legolas realized just how much he had enjoyed this time together.

Aragorn had a way to make even the most rainy day seem like a day full of sunshine, his smile could warm him even when he was freezing, and the man's presence always gave him that feeling of pure and undulated happiness. Yes, Legolas mused, now that Aragorn was not constantly at his side, he felt the absence keenly. Legolas felt a pulling at his heart, and with another heartfelt sigh, he poked the flames once more.

Staring into the fire and musing, Legolas barely registered the soft footsteps that neared his position. The footsteps were softer than those of humans, but not as soft as those of an elf. When Aragorn sat down on the log next to him, Legolas straightened up, giving him a small smile. But before he could say a word, maybe to ask how the patrol had been, he caught Aragorn's gaze.

The glare of the summer sun had colored Aragorn's skin and even in the darkness it shown honey-golden. A few days worth of stubble decorated his chin that even at his young age already showed of his noble origin. In Legolas's opinion the golden hue matched the dark hair and the grey eyes perfectly, and for a moment his thoughts drifted off to sweet memories. But the look in those grey eyes quickly called him back to the present. Aragorn was not just looking at him, he was really 'looking' at him, like only he could. It was, as if his look was going through flesh and bone, right to his heart and soul, and Legolas instinctively held his breath.

Aragorn tilted his head to the side, just a bit, so as if he was waiting for something. Legolas's thoughts jumped to his earlier musings, and he felt his gaze flicker slightly. As if that had been the Aragorn had been waiting for, the young human asked, "What is it that irks you so, Legolas? And do not deny it," he added quickly as he saw the refusal in the elf's eyes, "for I can see it in your eyes."

Sighing once more, Legolas threw the stick into the fire, where the flames devoured it greedily. Averting his face, he clasped his hands around his knees in a very untypical gesture for him. For a moment, he simply stared at the flames and said nothing. Surely he could not tell Aragorn of his feelings? What would the man think of him? That he was behaving like an idiot. Had Aragorn not time and time again prooven that he loved him, and that he was true to him? How could he then feel jealous?

Suddenly, Aragorn placed his hand on Legolas's thigh, making the elf jump slightly and gaze quickly at the other elves. But the elves were deeply immersed in their game and did not watch them. Legolas felt the warmth of Aragorn's hand seep through the cloth of his leggings and into his skin, and for a moment he felt wonderfully warm inside. That was, until the heat concentrated someplace under his belly button and he felt something rise inside of him that was surely inappropriate right now. He swallowed.

"Legolas? You can tell me everything, you know that, don't you?" Aragorn's voice was so soft that Legolas knew that the words were meant for his ears only. And before he knew what he was doing, he answered softly.

"What is it that fascinates you so about our companions, Estel? What can they give you that I cannot?"

Aragorn blinked and Legolas knew that whatever the young ranger had anticipated, this was not it. After a few seconds, Aragorn withdrew his hand from his leg, clasping them in his lap instead. "Legolas, I did not mean to single you out in any way." Aragorn said, looking a bit guilty. "They are my friends, for I have known most of them since I came to Imladris. I enjoy the time with them."

Legolas felt his jealousy diminish slightly at those words, but he asked nevertheless. "You ask them about Mirkwood. How it is like to be there, what creatures live in the dark wood and which paths are the most dangerous." Legolas felt a pout rise and he cursed his own weakness when he heard the sulking undertone in his voice, "Why are you asking them and not me? I am the Crown prince of Mirkwood, after all! I have lived all my life in those woods."

If Legolas had imagined Aragorn to sigh and acknowledge the mistake he had made by asking Lord Elrond's warriors and not him, he was mistaken. Instead of apologizing, the man smiled at him. "But Legolas, that is _exactly_ the reason I'm asking them and not you."

"Huh?" Legolas looked at him, baffled.

"Legolas, as you just said, you lived all your life in Mirkwood. You have fought the black squirrels and the mighty spiders, the orcs and wargs and wolves. You probably know those woods as well as the back of your hand."

Not seeing where this was leading, Legolas nodded. "Aye, of course I do."

"See?" Aragorn looked at him as if the answer to this riddle was plainly obvious. "I asked the other elves, because they tell me all the things you would tell me about the dangers of Mirkwood, but objectively."

Frowning, Legolas wanted to say something, but Aragorn shushed him and continued. "Legolas, I have never been to Mirkwood before and I need to know everything there is to know, so that I can look after myself. I need to know what dangers await me, so that I can protect myself and others, if necessary."

Having the feeling that Aragorn was implying that he, Legolas, would not tell him of the dangers, that he would not tell the man the things he needed to know to survive in Mirkwood, Legolas protested, "Do you not think I would tell you those things, too?"

"Of course you would, Legolas." Aragorn still smiled. "But Mirkwood is your home, your father's Kingdom. Would you really tell me about the squirrels and orcs and other monsters quite partially?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Legolas, you told me that the black squirrels are '_not that bad_'. Mirkwood is your home and it is only natural that you would want it to be less dangerous and more homely. But I need to know the entire story, Legolas."

Aragorn placed his hand on Legolas's leg once more. "I just need to know, Legolas. For my and your safety, too." His eyes looked at Legolas, and the elf saw the feelings swirl in them. Legolas asked himself whether he had really told Aragorn that the huge black squirrels were _not that bad_. He came to the conclusion that he probably had, and so he thought back to those times that he and Aragorn had spoken about Mirkwood. Could it be true that Legolas had made Mirkwood better than it was? Well….maybe….

With another sigh and a grimace, Legolas hang his head. "Alright, Estel, maybe you are right."

Grinning, Aragorn patted his leg, "Of course I am, Legolas." There was definitely a teasing undertone in the human's voice, and Legolas looked at him. Aragorn was grinning at him like a young boy, and Legolas shook his head. The hand on his thigh really felt good…

But before Legolas could do anything, Aragorn withdrew his hand. Legolas saw that Aragorn threw a quick look at the other elves, as if he wanted to make sure that none of them had seen him touch Legolas. Something dark seemed to race across Aragorn's face, for just a second, and Legolas was not sure whether he had really seen it. And when Aragorn stretched his long legs and placed another log on the fire, one of the elves lifted his head and called, "Estel, come play with us!"

Aragorn smiled at the elf and then turned to Legolas, "Do you want to play, too? It really is a simple enough game."

"No, you go and have fun, Estel." Legolas waved his hand through the air dismissively. "I am content."

Aragorn looked at him for another moment, but then the other elf called to him again, and Aragorn climbed to his feet. But before he joined the Imladris elves in their game, he asked Legolas, "Are you really alright, Legolas?"

"Aye, I am fine, melethron." Legolas said very softly, so that only Aragorn would hear.

And after another quick look, Aragorn nodded and made his way over to the other elves, where he joined them in their game. Legolas watched him play and interact with the warriors so easily as if he was not a human, but an elf, and again he felt that sense of protectiveness that always filled him when Aragorn was near. Aye, Legolas mused, he was alright now. But he had much to think about.

To be continued


	2. Desire

Chapter 2: Desire

The sun had already sunk behind the horizon and the lands looked dark and foreboding, when the party of elves and one human stopped for the night. They had ridden hard that day, but their desire to finally leave the Misty Mountains behind had spurred them on, so that they had ridden even after night had fallen. They had made good progress, left the last stony outcroppings of the mountains behind and had reached the open plains that would lead them to the Anduin and the fort.

A strong wind blew down from the mountains, and as Aragorn dismounted, he shivered slightly. While it was still relatively warm over day, while the sun shone, the nights were already bitterly cold. In the mornings, white frost glittered on the grass and in spider webs, but so far no snow had fallen and the party was certain that it would not do so for the next few weeks at least.

The place where they had stopped was nothing more than a fairly even path of grass, lined by some small trees. To one side, rocks protected them from the wind, while the trees on the other side would shield them from animals or unfriendly eyes. The ground was mossy at some places, while Aragorn could see gravel mar the grass in others.

Stretching, Aragorn tried to work the stiffness out of his legs and back, before he guided his horse towards the tiny puddle of water between some trees, where the other horses already drank greedily. The puddle could not be called 'pond' or even 'lake', but it would do. His horse drank from the water, making gulping sounds, and Aragorn felt his own stomach rumble. They had not stopped for lunch that day but rode on, so that they would finally reach the plains, and the young man felt the missed the meal keenly. After all, his young mortal body was still growing and he was hungry most of the times.

With a sigh, Aragorn rummaged in his saddlebags for something to eat, for he knew that the evening meal was still many hours away. First they would have to secure the camp, then built a camp, make fire and then cook something. If they took the time to cook. Aragorn had not been on many trips yet. His brothers had taken him hunting and he had spend some time with the Dunedain, but those trips had only lasted a few days at most. Although they had not cooked on those occasions, they had always had enough food to eat. Good food.

But this journey to Mirkwood was different, and Aragorn could not help but think of the fine meals he was used to in his father's halls. Since they had left Imladris, they had only made fires to make some tea or to keep the night at bay, but they had so far not cooked once. He had asked Legolas why that was so, but the Prince had only shrugged and answered that cooking needed a lot of time and utensils, and they had neither in the evenings. Apparently, eating dried and salted meat, fruits, berries, nuts and sometimes, when they were really hungry, the elvish waybread _lembas_, was enough for the elves.

Now, many weeks into the journey, Aragorn found himself more and more often daydreaming about the meals in Rivendell. He yearned for some warm venison or a good stew, and although he had not thought it possible, he began to truly dislike lembas. The elves seemed to like it, but he thought it tasted like dust. Very fine dust, but still…dust. It was dry and crumbly, and after only one bite he felt sated. Should eating not be something to enjoy?

His stomach gave another rumble, and Aragorn dug deeper into his saddlebag. Somewhere in there had to be an apple…His arm disappeared up to his elbow in the bag, and finally his fingers closed around the apple he had been looking for. With a triumphant '_haha_' Aragorn withdrew his hands. The apple looked a bit worse for the wear, having lain in his saddlebag for a few weeks now, but it was still eatable. Wiping some dirt from it with the sleeve of his tunic, Aragorn was just to take a bite, when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Are we nibbling again while the rest of us is working?" Legolas's voice said close to his ear, and Aragorn let his hand that held the apple sink. He looked around, and saw that the elves had already begun to set up the camp. The other horses had been brushed down already, bedrolls unfolded and some yards away the ground had been freed of dry leaves and needles so that a fire could be built. Everyone seemed to be busy with his tasks.

Swallowing, Aragorn shook his head, feeling a bit guilty about his egoism. He had tasks that needed to be done, too, like searching for fire wood and feeding the horses. He lifted the apple again and made a step to the side, "I was feeding my horse", he said, giving the apple to his horse, who devoured the fine fruit eagerly. There it went, his delicious apple. Aragorn tried hard not to glare resentfully at his horse.

Behind him, Legolas laughed musically, but when Aragorn turned around, the elf had already left his side and was making his way over to the other elves to speak about the watch. With a final sigh, Aragorn patted his horse on its long neck. "At least you have had something tasty tonight." And with that said, he took up the reins and led his horse over to the others and started to brush it down. The sooner he finished his tasks, the sooner he could eat something. Even if the food tasted like dust.

Later that evening, when they all sat around the low burning fire, their stomachs filled with dried meat and lembas, washed down by some bitter tasting tea, Legolas poked his elbow into Aragorn's side. "What do you say Estel, shall we scout the perimeter tonight?"

Every evening, two of the group would scout the surroundings before they went to sleep, to make sure that no dangers lurked in the dark. Of course, that was no fool-proof way to make sure that they were safe, but it was always a nice opportunity to stretch the legs at the end of the day. With a nod, Aragorn got to his feet, buckled his sword and drew his dark cloak tighter around his shoulders. Together with Legolas, he left the warm fire behind and a few steps later the darkness swallowed them.

Aragorn could hear the leaves crunch under his feet, and every time he tread on a dead branch which snapped loudly under his weight, he flinched. He had never truly mastered the art of moving as soundlessly of the elves, and his steps sounded loud in his ears in comparison to Legolas's almost soundless movements. They walked for many minutes, letting their eyes roam the dark plains and few trees around them. All was quiet and nothing stirred that concerned them. An owl hooted sadly in the distance, and the tiny feet of mice scurried through the long grasses, but neither Legolas nor Aragorn saw or heard anything that worried them. When they had walked for almost half an hour and circled the perimeter of their camp once, Legolas stopped in his tracks.

Turning around to look at Aragorn, he said softly, "I cannot see any danger lurking in the dark. At least nothing that should worry us overly much."

Aragorn nodded his consent; he had seen nothing out of the ordinary either, although he was sure that, with his limited human eyesight, he had barely seen the half of what Legolas's sharp eyes had been able to make out. "Neither have I," he said softly, his warm breath frosting in the cool air. "We should go back." He turned around, ready to make his way back to the warm fire and his bedroll, but Legolas's hand gripped his upper arm and stopped him.

"Wait." Legolas said, still speaking softly. Immediately concerned that Legolas had sensed something that he had not, Aragorn turned around and gazed at Legolas's face, "What is it Legolas?"

Before Aragorn knew what was happening, Legolas grabbed his other arm too, pulled him close and pressed his lips on Aragorn's. It was an eager kiss, full of unfulfilled promises, and Aragorn keenly felt the closeness of Legolas's body. The elf held him so close, than there was no space left between them, and Aragorn could feel Legolas's chest move with every quick breath the elf took.

Responding to the kiss, Aragorn placed his arms around Legolas, holding him close, and in that moment, he suddenly realized that it had been weeks since he and Legolas had been intimate with each other. While he had been traveling, sleeping in another place each evening and worrying about wolves, orcs and yes, Mirkwood, Aragorn had not felt the absence of their shared intimacy. This journey had just been too interesting, too exciting. But now, holding Legolas close and feeling his warm tongue lick his lips, brush his teeth, Aragorn felt the pent up desire and lust flood his body. His kisses became more eager, demanding even. And it seemed that Legolas felt the same.

The elf pressed Aragorn tighter against his chest, sucking the young man's bottom lip sweetly. When Aragorn sighed, Legolas pushed his tongue forwards and past Aragorn's lips. He swirled his tongue around for a moment, before he stroked the roof of the man's mouth. Aragorn shuddered, his hands clenching Legolas's cloak. A moment later, Aragorn answered the kiss even more eagerly, wanting to taste Legolas, feel his warmth. He released one of his hands from Legolas's cloak to stroke the elf's face. Legolas shifted at the touch, clearly enjoying it. Aragorn reached up and touched Legolas's ears, letting the tips of his fingers caress gently over the tip of Legolas's left ear. The reaction was immediate.

Suddenly, Aragorn felt Legolas's hands let go of his arm, only to cup his face tightly. Legolas intensified the kiss even more, kissing Aragorn so eagerly that the young man had barely time to gulp in some much needed air. When had his heart begun to beat that fast? A moment later, Aragorn felt Legolas push him backwards, their feet stumbled on twigs and branches, and then Aragorn felt a thick tree trunk in his back.

For one shocking moment Aragorn was reminded of a similar moment in the woods of Imladris a few months back, when another elf from Mirkwood had pushed him against a tree, just like Legolas had just done. But (not without an extreme effort) Aragorn chased those memories away, and concentrated on the here and now.

Legolas kissed him again, biting his bottom lip gently, while his hands rushed down the sides of Aragorn's body, only to come to rest on his hips, his fingers hugging under Aragorn's leather belt. Almost immediately Aragorn felt a well known warmth center in his stomach, before it travelled down to settle between his legs. He groaned, unconsciously parting his legs to accommodate his lover.

Legolas quickly took the opportunity. Breathing shallowly, he caressed the side of Aragorn's left leg, before he moved his hand around the thigh. Instinctively, Aragorn lifted his leg from the ground and Legolas placed his hand behind the knee to lift it even further while his body moved forwards, settling him between Aragorn's legs. When their middles touched, both groaned softly, finally breaking the kiss.

They both felt the reaction and needs of their bodies keenly, the rush of adrenalin in their systems, the heat they radiated, and when their eyes locked, they saw their own emotions reflect in the other's eyes. Legolas rotated his hips slightly, causing Aragorn to hiss and close his eyes. The young man tilted his head backwards when Legolas pushed against him and exposed his neck. Soon hot kisses wetted the skin on Aragorn's neck, and without thinking Aragorn placed his hands on Legolas's behind, squeezing the tight buttocks.

His breath was loud in his ears, but he could not stop thinking about the fact that one of the other elves could hear them or even go looking for them because they had been away from camp for so long. But then Legolas groaned and shifted against him once more, his free hand tugging at the leather straps that held his breeches closed. Legolas mumbled something incomprehensively, then brushed his nose against Aragorn's in what had become their secret sign of desire and the willingness to make love…and all reasonable thought left Aragorn's mind while he slowly slid down the trunk.

Their love making was hurried and rushed, full of desire and pure lust. Never before had either of them found his release that quickly, and it was as if their chastity of the previous weeks and the risk of being discovered had spurred their bodies into action. But the rush of their union had not made it less enjoyable, on the contrary. Legolas seemed to radiate with happiness, and his natural elven glow illuminated his face in the darkness. Aragorn felt his own body tingle form head to toe, and he could not help but grin stupidly.

They pulled up their leggings and righted their closing, brushed needles and grass from their clothing and picked leaves out of their hair, before they inspected their appearance one more time. Neither of them knew how much time had passed since they had left the camp. While they had not stayed away overly long, they knew that they had been away longer than was usual for a nightly patrol. Legolas reached out and picked a small leaf out of Aragorn's locks, before he nodded his head. "We should go back."

Aragorn nodded, but instead of turning towards the camp, he stepped up to Legolas and kissed him gently, sensually. Tilting his head to the side, he then brushed his thumb slowly over Legolas's red lips. A smile stole on his features and his eyes sparkled in the darkness. Aragorn's voice was barely a whisper when he said, "It seems my horse was not the only one who got something tasty tonight."

Legolas gazed at him questioningly, but Aragorn simply took his hand and led him into the direction of the camp. As soon as they saw the first orange glow of the fire appear between the trees they let go of the other's hand and they unconsciously moved away from each other. Most of the elves had already gone to '_bed_' when they arrived, and those who had not merely nodded at their return, before they returned to their conversation. It seemed that they had either not been away _that _long, or the elves really did not know or suspect that they were not mere friends.

When Aragorn settled down for the night, still feeling warm and sated, he closed his eyes tiredly. Riding hard all day had already tired him, but this rushed love making had worn him out completely. His last thought before he fell asleep mere moments after he had bedded his head on one of his packs was, that he wished Legolas would hold him now, like he used to do after they had loved each other.

To be continued.


	3. Orcs

**A/N: Hello back! I hoped you liked the last chapter. Here is the new one! (juhu!) Many thanks to my beta Firith Tindome.**

Chapter 3: Orcs

It was still early when the soft voices of the elves woke Aragorn from his sleep. Shivering slightly under his blanket, he kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the few peaceful moments before the flurry of the day. He had slept like a stone, deep and undisturbed. No nightmares had hunted his dreams, and Aragorn was very grateful for that fact. Once or twice on this journey already he had woken at night, sweaty and uneasy, only to see that the elf who stood guard looked at him worriedly. He did not know whether he was speaking in his sleep, but he hoped fiercely that he did not.

While he dozed, Aragorn listened to the sounds around him. He could hear the birds chatter in the trees, the soft whisper of the wind that rushed through the long grasses of the plains, the snorting of the horses and the low voices of his companions. Light shone through his eyelids and Aragorn could tell that it would be a sunny, if cold, day. He had almost fallen asleep again, when he heard soft footsteps nearing him. A moment later, a hand on his shoulder shook him gently.

"Wake up, Estel.I Anor hílol." (The sun is shining) Legolas voice sounded cheerful, more so than it had in all the previous days.

Opening first one and then the other eye, Aragorn blinked up at Legolas owlishly. He was still so tired, and he could not suppress a yawn. "Good morning Legolas."

Patting him on the shoulder, Legolas got to his feet. "Get up Estel, we have a long day ahead of us." He turned and made his way over to the fire, where the other elves sat or stood, talking softly.

Aragorn watched Legolas go, and he noted that there was a definite jump to the elf's step. He seemed more relaxed than the day before, and Aragorn could not help but notice that Legolas's hair seemed to almost glow in the weak sunshine that filtered through the trees. Smiling, for Aragorn had experienced this phenomenon in Legolas before, Aragorn pushed his blanket away and sat up. While he himself always felt tired and exhausted after they had lain together (and very happy and sated as well), it seemed to give Legolas new energy. It was almost as if the love they shared filled him to the brim, so much so that he often lay awake the whole night after they had made love, grinning happily. Aragorn was glad that he could make Legolas that happy, but he also envied the Prince from time to time. Like right now.

Suppressing a wince, Aragorn slowly climbed to his feet. He felt stiff and a bit wobbly on his feet, as if he had barely slept. His joints cracked audibly, as if he was an old man, and he shivered slightly in the cold. And apart from that, certain parts of his body had apparently not fared _that_ well from their rushed love making. Yawning once more, Aragorn stiffly made his way over to the rest of his packs to search for a clean shirt and breeches. When he bent down, he could not help but flinch. It was not a bad pain, but he was not looking forward to sitting on a horse all day. But well, he grinned slightly, it was well worth it.

Donning a clean woolen shirt and breeches, Aragorn quickly washed his face, neck and hands, before he joined his companions at the fire. A mug of steaming tea was placed in his hands together with some lembas. Aragorn ate with hunger, forcing Legolas to wink at him. Aragorn was always hungry afterwards…

They broke camp in silence, then mounted their horses and made their way Eastwards. Around midday the group stopped for a quick meal and some rest, but soon rode on. They left the Misty Mountains behind them, followed the road that led towards the river, and soon saw nothing but open plains all around them. It made the warriors slightly uneasy and so they hastened on, but nothing untoward happened. Neither did they meet other elves, nor any other travelers, and they were glad that their journey was so uneventful.

When evening finally arrived, Aragorn sighed inwardly. While riding had not been as uncomfortable as he had thought it would be, he felt sore and tired. He dismounted a bit slower than usual, glad to stand on his own two feet. He could tell that Legolas had noticed that something was bothering him, but of course he would never tell his friend. That, Aragorn mused, was something Legolas did not need to know. Otherwise the elf would surely not feel free to follow his desire, wishes and preferences in the future. Oh, and how Aragorn loved it when Legolas just let go…

Aragorn slept well that night too, without any nightly nightmarish disturbances, and when the next dawn broke, he could barely feel his discomfort any longer. And the next day, they had vanished completely.

They rode further East and the weather changed from sunny to cloudy. In the morning the grey mist hung so low that even the elves' keen eyes could not penetrate it. They had to ride carefully until the mist lifted, and it slowed them down. It was eight days after they had left the Misty Mountains behind them that they climbed a high grassy knot and for the first time saw the Great River sparkle in the distance. Aragorn, who had never seen the Anduin before, could not help but stare. Even with his limited eyesight he could see that the river must be wide and wild. He moved his head from left to right, looking North and South, and the river stretched from one horizon to the next. It was like a blue ribbon that meandered like a snake through the green scenery. So immersed was Aragorn in his musings, that he did not notice Legolas riding up to him.

"It is much more impressive when you stand at its banks, Estel."

"I can imagine."

And then they rode on, hoping to reach the fort in two days time. Later in the afternoon the grassy plains were dotted here and there with clusters of trees and rocks, and when afternoon passed into night, they reached a dense forest, the last before the river. As usually they set up the camp in some secluded spot, cared for the horses and had a cold meal. They set the watches and before they went to '_bed_', they decided that Legolas and Aragorn would once more scout the perimeter.

Half an hour later, Legolas and Aragorn leaned against a tree, kissing and touching. Just as the last time, they had found no danger, the skeleton of a deer the only sign that other forms of life resided in this forest. While they had been overmanned by desire the last time they had been able to spend some private time, Legolas and Aragorn now simply enjoyed being together and took things slower.

Legolas brushed his cheek against Aragorn's and buried his face in the dark locks that embraced the young man's face. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. To have Aragorn so close was pure bliss. Aragorn, on his part, enjoyed the closeness, too. He rubbed the elf's back in small circles, feeling the tension of the muscles under his hands. His mouth was close to the archer's ear, and he kissed it gently, causing Legolas to sigh deeply. Smiling, Aragorn used his other hand to stroke Legolas's long hair. It had lost its unearthly shimmer that it had had the day after their union, but it was still silky and shone bright even in the darkness of the night.

Soon, their lips found each other and they shared a long, sensual kiss that filled them with warmth and togetherness, but neither of them felt the need to go further that night. It was enough that they could share some caresses in privacy, away from the eyes of the others. They both enjoyed the moments in which they did not have to guard their movements and looks.

They embraced and kissed for many minutes, before Legolas finally withdrew from Aragorn. With a small smile he traced his forefinger down the side of the young ranger's face. "I still cannot believe you love me." He whispered.

"I could say the same." Aragorn said, looking deep into Legolas's blue eyes. "Legolas, how could you have ever fallen in love with me?" To the elf's surprise, the questions sounded almost serious and not rhetorical at all. For a moment, Legolas was unsure of what to say. How should he explain to Aragorn what he himself did not know?

"Sometimes," Legolas finally said, "the heart simply follows its own path. But I must be the happiest elf on Arda, now that I have found you." And he leaned in and kissed Aragorn sweetly.

To be true, Legolas had been attracted to Aragorn almost from the first time he had lain eyes on the young human. But while it had been more physical attractiveness then, Legolas feelings had soon changed into true caring and then, later, love. And since he had told Aragorn of his feelings and had them found returned, his feelings for the young man had deepened and were now rooted deeply inside of Legolas's heart and soul. He still felt attracted to Aragorn, but now not only to his body, but to his personality as well. Ever since their first encounter, he had felt a fierce protectiveness to the man, and since they shared not only the days but the nights as well, this protectiveness had grown. Even more so after the horrible things that had happened just half a year ago.

Smiling at his friend and lover, Aragorn pushed away from the tree he had been leaning against. "It is late, we should return to the camp."

"Aye, let us go." Legolas agreed, and they slowly made their way through the dark forest. They had not gone very far when Legolas suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed Aragorn by the arm. Turning, a teasing smile on his lips as he remembered the last time that the archer had done just this, Aragorn said, "Again?" But one look at Legolas's face was enough for the smile to disappear and a frown appear in its stead. "Legolas, was is it?"

The elf shook his head and placed his finger over his lips in a gesture of silence. Aragorn nodded to show that he understood. For a moment, Legolas just stood there, with his head tilted to the side. He was listening intently, Aragorn had seen him do that many times, and so the young man strained his ears to. Maybe he could hear whatever it was that Legolas had detected, too. But no matter how hard the listened, he could hear nothing. Aragorn paused. He really heard _nothing_. No howls of owl, no scurrying of tiny feet, no breaking twins caused by rabbits or a stray fox.

His thoughts began to race and he tried to recall their patrol through the forest. Now, in hindsight, he remembered that he had seen to signs of wildlife at all, the skeleton of the dear the only sign that animals lived in this forest. Aragorn knew that this was unusual, for animals lived everywhere and a secluded small forest like this, so close to water, should inhabit at least some smaller animals; mice and rabbits, badgers or at least birds. But the forest was silent. His heart began to pound in his chest and a cold shiver crawled down his spine. It was way too quiet here…like in a grave.

Legolas seemed to have come to the same conclusion, for he frowned deeply. His eyes tried to pierce the darkness around them, to find movement in the dark shadows between the trees. He turned his head left and right, still listening, and after a moment his frown deepened and he gestured for Aragorn to follow him, while he already made his way deeper into the woods. They walked for some minutes, trying to be as silent as possible. As an elf, Legolas barely made any sound, and Aragorn, having grown up with the elves, was silent as a wraith.

Aragorn did not ask the elf what he had heard, for he was sure that he would find out soon enough. And to be true, he already suspected that he knew. This was the last forest before the river, and one of the biggest between the river and the mountains. There were not many evil creatures that lived in this area, but it was only too possible that orcs had come down from the mountains and were now living in this forest.

A few minutes later, Legolas stopped in his tracks and turned around to him. Again he placed a finger over his lips to indicate silence, and then he lay down on the leave strewn ground. Following his example, Aragorn did the same, and together they crawled forwards. The trees stood so close in this part of the forest that the young man could barely see more than a few feet, and whatever it was that Legolas had seen, it was hidden from his eyes. At least the underbrush was not dense; it would have made their approach impossible.

And then, Legolas stopped, with his body pressed to the ground. Aragorn reached his side, panting slightly from exertion and adrenalin. Legolas gazed at him quickly, and then pointed ahead of him. His face was pale, but there was a grim determination in his eyes that Aragorn knew only too well. It was the look that Legolas usually reserved for the minions of Sauron.

Aragorn's eyes followed Legolas's outstretched arm. Too his surprise, he was not looking deeper into the forest, but down into a small depression. They were lying on top of a ridge, not higher than maybe two tall man together. One side of the gorge was blocked by a huge rock, grey and black in the night, with moss and lichens covering the stone. The other side of the gorge, right opposite from Legolas and Aragorn, was made of another steep rise and the slope was strewn with loose gravel and a dry bush here and there. To their right, the gorge seemed to open into the forest, and Aragorn could see small trees and shrubs.

With his eyes, Aragorn scanned the depression, and even in the dim light of night, he could see the many white bones that lay scattered all around. Animal bones, maybe some human bones as well. Who could tell? Aragorn was still scanning the depression, when he suddenly heard gruff voices. Starting, he quickly looked to his left, where the huge rock formation was.

He could feel Legolas tense beside him, and a moment later he knew why. A pack of orcs entered the depression, and Aragorn saw that there was a crack in the rocks, wide and large enough to let the orcs through. The beasts talked in their dark language, laughing and jeering at something that Aragorn could not understand. More and more of the foul beasts exited the rock, until it were so many that the small depression seemed to be filled to the brim with black, hairy bodies.

Aragorn felt his hands become sweaty. He had fought orcs before, but always with his brothers at his side. And never had he seen so many gathered together. The orcs that entered the woods of Rivendell were few, and they always travelled in small groups. Furthermore these orcs seemed to be smaller than the orcs he had seen before, but more agile and quick, and their howling sounded savage in his ears. The darkness seemed to make them more dangerous, as if the night was their companion. Aragorn swallowed thickly and felt his heart begin to race.

Beside him, Legolas felt the urge to take his bow and kill the beasts, one after the other, but he had been a warrior long enough to know that there were too many of the beasts. He would never be able to kill them all. And, he mused, there was Aragorn to consider. While Legolas knew that his friend had fought orcs before, he did not know whether Aragorn had ever had to deal with these kind of orcs. Legolas had seen their kind before. These were mountain goblins, the kind that lived between rocks and stone, that could climb vertical walls and find hold in even the smallest crevice. The hands of mountain goblins were long fingered, with sharp claws. These orcs were strong and agile…and there were many.

Legolas silently counted the orcs as best he could, for they moved hither and yonder, and to his eyes they looked all the same. '_At least 40'_, Legolas thought. '_Too many to fight._' He quickly made a decision. They would have to leave and warn their companions. There were too many orcs and Legolas knew that they could not fight them without being injured. Mirkwood was still far away, they could not take the risk. It irked him that they would leave these beasts alone, but maybe they could send some warriors back to deal with them once they had reached his home. This danger could not be left alone.

With a silent hand gesture, Legolas motioned for Aragorn to follow him. As silently as they had come, man and elf crawled back from the depression. When they were far enough away so as not to be seen, they got to their feet. Aragorn felt his heart race inside his chest. "Orcs!" he whispered, his eyes wide. "And so many!"

"Aye." Legolas nodded his head, looking back at the way they had come. "That is why this forest is so quiet. It is dead. And we will be too if we don't leave here quickly. Come." And he grabbed Aragorn by the arm and almost dragged him away. "We will inform the others and then leave this forest."

Aragorn stared at him, "We will not fight?"

"It is a wise warrior that turns from a fight he cannot possibly win, not a cowardly one." Legolas returned, then hastened his steps.

Aragorn said nothing and simply followed his friend. But, they had not gone very far when there was a commotion behind them. They stopped and stared back towards the gorge. There was movement between the trees….they had been seen!

To be continued.


	4. Flight

**Here we go again. Thank you all for the kind reviews. It makes me incredibly happy to know that you like the story. :o)**

Chapter 4: Flight

Legolas could not believe his eyes when more and more of the foul beasts climbed out of the depression. Their yellow eyes gleamed in the dark like golden coins, and Legolas had no doubt that these beasts had seen them. He was sure that they had made no sound that the orcs could have possibly heard, but maybe the creatures had smelled them. Whatever it was that had given them away, it did not matter now. What mattered was that they escaped.

Without further ado, Legolas grabbed Aragorn by the arm and shoved him forwards. "Run!"

And that they did. As fast as they could Legolas and Aragorn ran through the dark forest. They no longer cared whether they made any sound, for the orcs had seen them and were following them. The noise that the orcs made while crashing through the woods was so loud, that Aragorn could not even hear his own labored breathing. They knew that they were not far away from the camp, and when they were in shouting distance, Legolas called out loudly, in the hope that their companions would hear him, "Yrch! Drego! Drego!" (Orcs! Flee! Flee!)

Soon they saw the orange glow of fire between the trees, and a moment later they heard the frightened snorts of the horses and the yells of the other elves. They broke through the trees and into the clearing where they had made camp. Panting, Legolas and Aragorn looked around. The warriors of Imladris had heard their calls, and in all haste they had secured a few packs on the horses. Most of the warriors were already mounted, and while Legolas watched, the last two elves swung upon the back of their mounts.

Quickly making out his own mare, Legolas raced towards it and mounted. Behind him, Aragorn took the reins of his horse and mounted as well. Not a second later, the first orcs crashed through the trees and entered the clearing.

"Drego!" Someone screamed, and as one the elves and Aragorn turned their horses. But they had not counted on the cunningness of these orcs. While a large amount had chased Aragorn and Legolas, the others had circled around. Now, they stood in front of the horses on the other side of the clearing, their weapons shining deadly in the glow of the fire. The horses shied and bucked, afraid off the orcs. But they were elvish horses and trained to follow the command of their riders. And when the elves shouted and dug their heels into their flanks, they shot forwards. Hooves clubbed orcs to death and elvish swords cut limbs from bodies, as the riders fought their way through the orcs. Screams filled the air, blood dripped onto the grass, but only a few moments later the last of the riders had broken free and fled into the night.

Howling, the orcs gave chase.

It was so dark in the forest that Aragorn could barely see where he was going. Had it not been for the glow of his companions and his horse's instincts, he would quickly have lost his way. More than once his shoulders or knees brushed the trunk of a tree, but Aragorn did not feel the pain. His veins seemed to be filled with liquid fire, and he could feel the rush of adrenalin in his blood. The screams of the orcs filled his ears, and every now and then he threw a quick glance across his shoulder. They were following, and they were quick.

Around him, the elves sped through the forest, lithe shapes in the darkness. Aragorn was a fine rider, but he was neither as agile as the elves, nor as light. Slowly, his companions drew away from him, and soon he was at the back of their group. Fear filled his heart; he did not want to be left alone! If he lost sight of his companions, he was lost in the darkness of the woods. Leaning low over the neck of his horse, Aragorn pressed his heels into his horse's sides. '_Faster_,' he thought, '_faster!_'

Suddenly, there was a shape right next to him, and for a moment Aragorn thought that one of the orcs had caught up to him. But then he saw that it was Legolas. The elf must have slowed his horse down, so that he was now level with the man. Without a word, Legolas stayed at his side, lending his support. Together, they sped on, hoping to reach the end of this cursed forest. If they could only manage to reach the open plains, they would be able to outrun the orcs without much effort.

Once or twice, Aragorn heard the unmistakable sound of an arrow that whizzed past his head, and he was glad that none of them had been hit so far. Apparently, the orcs could not shoot while running, just like all other fighters. Having never been in this part of Arda, Aragorn did not know how large this forest was, but so far the only thing he could see were the dark trees and the low undergrowth; no sign that they would exit the woods soon.

But they were slowly drawing ahead of the orcs. Their screams became softer and the arrows were falling short of them. Aragorn turned and threw a quick look back over his shoulder. He could no longer see the dark shapes of the orcs. Something like relieve entered his heart, and he gazed at Legolas. The elf, leaning low over the neck of his horse, gave him a quick smile, as if he wanted to say '_We will make it, Estel, we are almost out of this forest._'

And in that tiny moment of inattention, it happened. Suddenly, something furry and dark hurled towards Legolas out of the treetops. The impact of the orc was so powerful that it threw Legolas out of his saddle. Elf and orc tumbled to the ground with a sickening thumb, while Legolas's horse screeched in fright. Freed from its rider, the horse sped away as fast as it could and quickly vanished between the trees.

His own speed carried Aragorn away from Legolas, and for a moment Aragorn could not think; his mind was blank with shock and fear. Legolas! And then, his thoughts seemed to race double as fast. Calling Legolas's name, Aragorn pulled at the reins to stop his horse, then turned it and made his way back towards where his friend had fallen. It was not easy to find the way in the darkness, and while he sped back, Aragorn could hear the yells of the orcs grew steadily louder. With fear flooding through his body, Aragorn drew his sword. It felt heavy in his hand, but familiar.

A few heartbeats later, he saw a blue shimmer between the shadows. Legolas! New energy seemed to flood him, and with a cry on his lips, Aragorn spurred his horse onwards. Now he could see that Legolas was fighting the orc that had thrown him from his horse. The elf's white handled knifes blinked in the darkness, but the orc had a huge scimitar that he swung wide over his head. He was screeching and howling, ready to kill the elf with the next swing of his blade. But he never got the chance.

Without thinking, Aragorn rode up behind the foul creature, and with one powerful stroke he severed the orcs head from its shoulders. For a moment the orc stood silent, the arms still wielding the sword over its rump, but then the orc fell to the ground. Its head rolled way into the forest to come to rest between some tree roots.

Turning, Aragorn rode back to where Legolas stood, panting and bleeding from a gash to his forehead. Aragorn quickly sheathed his sword and held his arm out to Legolas, who took it and swung himself up behind the young man. An arrow whizzed past their heads, and Aragorn dared a look over his shoulder. The black shapes of the orcs moved between the trees, they were close.

"Ha!" Aragorn yelled and kicked his horse into motion. He could feel the elf's arms encircle his waist, as Legolas tried to hold on. Now that his horse had to carry two riders, their progress was even slower, and after only a short while more arrows flew past them. "Limo! Limo! (Quick! Quick!) Aragorn called to his horse, urging it to go faster. The howls of the orcs grew louder. Another arrow whizzed past them and buried itself deep into the trunk of a tree, and suddenly Aragorn felt Legolas weight slam into him. The elf shouted out in pain and his head fell on the man's shoulder. The arms that still encircled his waist tightened for a moment, before they became limp.

"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled, feeling the elf slip from the horse. He did not know what had happened, but he feared that one of the arrows had found its mark and hit the Prince in the back. Frantically, the young human reached out and grabbed one of Legolas's arms, trying to hold him on the back of the horse. For a moment he thought that he might succeed, but then his mare suddenly turned left to avoid a large tree. The movement caused Legolas to slide to the side. Aragorn tightened his hold, but it was useless. Legolas's unconscious body slid from the horse, and Aragorn, unwilling to let go, lost his own balance. With a shocked cry, Aragorn felt himself tumble off the horse. A second later, his body hit the hard ground with a dull thud, stunning him momentarily. He rolled down a small slope, thorns and stones pricked his skin, and when he came to rest he felt dizzy and disorientated. His chest hurt and for a moment, he heard nothing but his own blood that rushed in his ears.

And then, he heard the orcs.

Aragorn lifted his head and opened his eyes, but all he could see was grass and sand and stones. Confused, Aragorn lifted his head a bit higher and saw that he was lying at the base of a small, not very steep slope. Above him, just some feet away, lay Legolas. The elf was lying on his stomach, with his blond hair covering his face. Aragorn could not be sure in the darkness, but he meant to see something thin sticking out of Legolas's back. He swallowed.

The howling and screeching of the orcs was now so near that Aragorn simply knew that the foul beasts would charge at them any second. They would torture and kill them. Many feet stomped through bush and shrubs above them, but to Aragorn's amazement, the orcs charged right past the slope! Aragorn felt the ground shiver and tremble, heard branches break and saw dark shapes rush through the trees. He pressed his body against the ground, breathing shallowly, and prayed that the orcs would indeed not find them.

The orcs passing seemed to take ages, but in reality it were but a few long moments. Once the orcs had passed, silence settled over the forest once more, and all Aragorn could hear was his shallow breathing. With his heart in his throat, he slowly crawled upwards to where Legolas lay. The elf had not moved yet, and Aragorn feared the worst. Gravel slid out from under Aragorn and he cut the palms of his hands on ragged stones, but his only thought was to reach the elf. He feared that the orcs would soon notice that they were chasing a rider-less horse, and would come back to look for them. They needed to get away as quickly as possible.

Aragorn reached Legolas's side. The elf was not moving and his long hair had fallen over his face. At first glance Aragorn saw that his suspicion had been right. The black shaft of an arrow was protruding from Legolas's back, right under his right shoulder blade. Despite the darkness of night, Aragorn could see the blood that had turned Legolas's tunic a darker shade. Worried, the young man tucked the long strands away from the elf's face and placed his finger at his neck to feel for a pulse. To his immense relief, Legolas's pulse was steady, if somewhat too fast. At least he was alive.

Sighing and sending a thank you to the Valar, Aragorn whispered Legolas name. The elf did not stir, and Aragorn patted his cheek gently. "Legolas, wake up! Please, mellon-nin, wake up!" But Legolas did not react to his voice or touch. He lay unmoving and silent. The gash to the elf's forehead was still bleeding, plastering the blond hair to Legolas's skin. Aragorn shook Legolas, calling his name again, but Legolas could not hear him.

Somewhere in the distant, the screech of an orc shattered the silence. It made Aragorn jump, and look around frantically; he could see no orcs, but he knew that they had to be near. And in that moment, Aragorn, maybe for the first time, did not know what to do. On all his previous journeys, his brothers had been with him, or rangers, and whenever something dangerous had happened, others had made the necessary decisions. Never had he been in a situation, where he had to make a decision that would decide of the life of death of someone. And Aragorn was well aware that this was such a decision.

Legolas was unconscious and hurt. He himself had fallen from his horse while he had been galloping through the forest, and the fall and the subsequent tumble down the slope had not left him unscathed. His chest hurt fiercely as did his right leg. Aragorn did not think that either his ribs or leg was broken, but it hurt enough to slow his movements and impede him. The orcs would surely come back, and they needed to find a place to hide. They no longer had horses, and should Legolas not wake, Aragorn would have to carry him. And, Aragorn realized with a small jolt in his stomach, his horse had carried his pack, blanket and healing supplies. The only thing that he had on his body was his sword, a knife and a dagger in his boot. A quick glance told him that Legolas still had his twin knifes and quiver, but had lost his bow.

Another loud screech echoed from somewhere above them, and Aragorn began to shiver. He was afraid. If the orcs found them, they would die a terrible death; especially Legolas, for orcs hated the Firstborn. He had to make a decision, and quickly. Frantically, Aragorn looked around. At the bottom of the slope, the forest continued, with thick underbrush and high trees. As far as he could see, the trees stood dense, but not dense enough to not squeeze through them. Aragorn's gaze travelled up the slope. He knew that he could not go that way, for that was where the orcs were.

When the third and closest screech shrilled in his ears, Aragorn quickly grabbed Legolas's arm and leg and heaved him across his shoulders. The elf was light, but Aragorn still groaned when his chest and leg protested the added weight. As quietly as he could, he made his way down the slope and then into the forest. The trees swallowed them quickly, and when the young man looked back a few moments later, he could no longer make out the slope they had fallen down.

Slower than he wished, he made his way through the forest. Legolas head bobbed against his shoulder, and Aragorn felt his anxiety rise with every step he took. He had seen unconscious elves before, but never had it been Legolas who had lain unmoving and silent. What if the arrow wound was still bleeding? What if the arrow was poisoned? Numerous thoughts flittered through his mind, but first and foremost Aragorn thought about his next steps.

He needed a place to hide, somewhere where he could take a look at Legolas's wounds. Someplace secluded and safe, where the orcs would not find them. But Aragorn did not know this forest, and it was so dark that he could barely see his hand in front of his eyes. Numerous times he stumbled over roots and fallen tree trunks, and more than once he stepped into a hidden rabbit hole. The thought that he could walk right into a trap chased across his mind, and Aragorn shivered. Was he even walking in the right direction any longer? He knew that people tended to walk in circles when lost, even if they did not want to. What if he walked right back to the orcs?

Aragorn stopped, leaning against a tree. His chest hurt and sweat stood on his brow. The rush of adrenalin was leaving his system, and his legs felt wobbly. He had not heard the orcs since he had left the slope, and he hoped that he had shaken them off. Looking around wearily, he saw some larger shapes in the darkness, and when he looked at one of those a bit more closely, he saw that it was a fallen tree. The roots of the tree were sticking high into the air and the tree top was resting on the ground. Sighing, Aragorn decided that this was as good a place to rest as any. Pushing away from the trunk he was leaning against, he made his way over to the fallen tree.

With a grunt, he gently lowered Legolas to the ground, careful to place the elf on his stomach. Aragorn arranged his friend's arms and legs, before he flopped down as well. For a moment he simply sat on the cold ground and caught his breath. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Aragorn gazed at the arrow that was still sticking out of Legolas's back. A gust of wind made him shiver, and he felt the cold more keenly now that he had stopped moving.

Swallowing thickly, Aragorn moved into a kneeling position beside the prone elf. He knew that he needed to remove the arrow as soon as possible. His father, Lord Elrond, had taught him enough of the healing arts, to let him know that the metal of which the tips of arrows was made, tainted the blood and could kill a victim as effectively as the blade of a sword. But, Aragorn thought with worry, he had neither bandages nor anything else to stop the bleeding that would inevitably start once he began to work on the wound. He shivered again in the cold and instinctively clutched his cloak tighter around his shoulder. He started, then glanced with wide eyes at the grey fabric.

Almost frantically, he shrugged out of the cloak and held the piece of clothing in front of him. Why had he not thought about this sooner? Maybe he had no bandages left, but his cloak would surely do! Of course, it was not as clean as it could be, but it would have to do. Filled with new energy, Aragorn whispered to his unconscious companion. "Legolas, we are safe for the moment, don't worry." Aragorn began to cut his cloak into strips with his knife. "I will take care of your wounds and then we will find some place to hide and wait for morning. And then, we will leave this cursed forest."

Legolas neither answered nor stirred, and Aragorn felt his worry spike. Again he caressed the elf's cheek, remembering a similar situation not too long ago. Legolas had been hit by a heavy branch and been rendered unconscious. The elf had not stirred of moved for many hours, but at least he had not bled then, or been in danger of orc poison. Suddenly Aragorn wished that his brothers were with him right now, or his father. They would know what to do. '_And so do you!_' His own voice sounded in his head. '_You are a healer, a warrior. You know what to do._' Aragorn took a deep breath. Aye, he was a healer, and if he could believe his father, a very good one, even at his young age.

Leaning closer, Aragorn moved Legolas's cloak out of the way to be able to see the wound more clearly. And as if this action had triggered something, all the knowledge he had about arrow wounds filled his head. It was as if someone had broken a dam and all his knowledge, buried somewhere in his memory, was flooding his mind. Aragorn took another deep breath and reached for his knife. He was a healer. He knew what he had to do.

A few moments later, Legolas's choked scream echoed from the trees as the arrow was wrenched from his back.

To be continued.


	5. Injuries

**Hello again! Here is the new chapter and I hope you enjoy it. Due to the reviews I got for the last chapter, I changed the rating. I hope you do not mind. Many thanks for your comments, they mean a lot to me. Now, enough babble, on with the story. :)**

Chapter 5: Injuries

Aragorn almost dropped the arrow when Legolas cried out in pain. The elf arched his back and tried to roll away, but Aragorn retained enough of his senses to quickly reach out and keep his friend still. "Easy, Legolas, easy." He whispered, his voice shaking slightly. He had cut away the material around the wound and then pulled at the arrow. It had come out at his first try with the sickening sound, and red blood pooled in the wound and run in small rivulets down Legolas's back before it soaked the material of his shirt and cloak. The pain must have ripped the Prince out of his unconsciousness.

Legolas moaned and his eyelids fluttered. With trembling fingers, Aragorn folded a piece of his cloak and pressed it against the wound. The elf moaned again, shifting under his hands. "Legolas?" Aragorn asked worriedly, looking intently at his friend's face. "Are you awake? Legolas?"

The elf's eyelids fluttered once more, and then he pried his eyes open. He blinked the world into focus, and his eyes hushed around for a moment, before his gaze settled on Aragorn. "Estel?" He croaked, his voice sounding confused.

"Aye, Legolas, it's me." Aragorn smiled in relief. He still pressed the cloth at the wound to stop the bleeding, but his eyes were fixed on Legolas's face. "How do you feel, mellon?"

Legolas thought for a moment, then groaned softly, "What happened?"

Although Aragorn was not satisfied with this answer, he replied to Legolas question. "An orc threw you from your horse, don't you remember? I managed to kill the orc and we fled on my horse. You were hit from an arrow, Legolas, in the back." Aragorn watched Legolas's face closely, and he meant to see recognition and remembrance flash through the blue eyes of his friend. He continued, "I could not keep you on the horse when you fell unconscious. We both fell off, but the orcs did not find us."

Legolas frowned, "Where are we now?"

Aragorn shrugged his shoulders, "Somewhere in the forest, I do not know."

"The others? What about them?" Legolas asked, sounding in pain, but alert.

Aragorn took his eyes from Legolas's face because he had to change the cloth, but he answered all the same, "I don't know, Legolas, I saw and heard nothing. Maybe they have been able to flee, maybe not. We will find out soon enough." He pressed a new cloth against the wound, causing Legolas to flinch and groan.

"I'm sorry, Legolas." Aragorn said, feeling incredibly guilty that he had to cause his friend more pain. If he had only been able to keep them both on the horse, maybe they would have already left this forest behind them and were safely riding across the open plains towards the river.

"'s alright." Legolas mumbled. He reached out with his hand and touched his forehead. His fingers came away sticky with his own blood. The elf sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, before he gazed at the man by his side. "How bad is it?"

Taking the cloth away from the injury, Aragorn inspected its edges and the amount of blood that pooled in the wound. He frowned, an action that went not unnoticed by Legolas, then replaced the cloth and pressed down. "The bleeding is already slowing, it should stop soon. You did not lose too much blood, Legolas. If the arrow was not poisoned, you should heal quickly."

Legolas simply nodded, then asked worriedly, while his eyes scanned Aragorn's body, "And what about you? Are you injured?"

"No, I'm fine." The young ranger replied, still focused on the wound. Again he exchanged the soiled cloth for a new one. "A few scratches that is all."

"Good." Was all Legolas said, before he closed his eyes once more. When Aragorn looked at his face, he saw the frown that marred the youthful face, and new worry grew in him. Legolas looked even worse now than he had done before, and Aragorn feared that the elf was injured more badly than he knew so far.

"Legolas? Are you alright?" He knew that it was a stupid question, but what else should he have asked?

"Don't worry, Estel." The elf replied, sounding tired. "I will be fine." And then he said no more. Aragorn saw that he was still conscious, but he did not dare to ask more questions. Legolas was behaving strangely, and Aragorn feared that too many questions would upset the elf and hinder his recovery. Maybe Legolas was simply reserving his strength and concentrating on his healing powers.

But oh, how Aragorn wished to talk to Legolas! He had so many questions that were burning on the tip of his tongue. What should they do now? Where should they turn to? Should they go back the way they had come? Or head into the opposite direction? Would the orcs not look for them here? Should they try to find the others or wait? Should they go on once Legolas's wounds were tended to, or wait till the morrow? Should Aragorn maybe search for healing herbs and water? Should he climb a tree to find out where they were precisely? Not for the first time that night, Aragorn felt how young he was and how inexperienced. How he wished for someone to take the lead. Anyone but him!

But Legolas was injured and obviously too tired or in too much pain to take the lead, and there was no one else there. Aragorn felt his stomach turn. What if he made the wrong decision? Once more he exchanged the cloth, noting gratefully that the bleeding had slowed down already. Pressing the cloth against the wound, he took a deep breath. Maybe Legolas would know what to do once he was feeling better. And until then, he would just take one step at a time. Finding new resolve in him, Aragorn waited until the bleeding had stopped enough to bind the wound, and then asked Legolas to sit up.

The elf swayed a bit, but with Aragorn's help he managed to lean against the fallen tree trunk in his back and stay upright. With slightly trembling but still nimble fingers, Aragorn placed a folded piece of his cloak against the wound as some kind of padding, then wrapped Legolas's shoulder with the strips of his cloak as best as he could. It looked provisionary and less than acceptable, but in the dark and with nothing more than his cloak to work with, Aragorn had to be satisfied by what he had done. Once the arrow wound had been treated, he began to inspect the cut on Legolas's forehead.

"It is not very deep, but long. And there is dirt in there that needs to be cleaned out once we find water." Aragorn said, tracing his fingers over the cut. Legolas flinched, but did not pull away.

"We have no water?" The elf asked, looking around in confusion. "Where are our packs?"

Scared at his friend's reaction, Aragorn answered, "Legolas, we lost our packs together with the horses, remember?"

Legolas looked at him in confusion, but then he nodded. "Aye, of course." He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and sighed.

Not at all relieved by this answer, Aragorn watched his friend for a moment longer. Legolas was pale and sweat stood on his brow. While he seemed alright, his confusion worried Aragorn immensely. He knew what a head wound could do to a person, and if the cut on Legolas's head was any indication, the elf had been hit badly.

"Legolas, open your eyes please." Aragorn said softly, and the elf complied. He blinked a few times, before his gaze settled on the young man. Aragorn saw it immediately, now that he was looking for it. Legolas's pupils were strangely dilated, his friend had a concussion. That, of course, would explain the loss of memory and the confusion. But before Aragorn could peer closer at Legolas's eyes, the elf blinked and wiped his hand wearily across his eyes. "I'm so tired, Estel."

"We cannot rest yet, Legolas." Aragorn said, shifting his position to kneel right next to his friend. Shivering slightly in the cold, Aragorn gazed at the forest around them. His hands and leg were pounding from a light pain, and his chest was sending irritating stabs of pain through his body. He had not yet had the time to assess his own injuries. Aragorn did not know how far he had carried the elf or how long they had walked; he could not be sure that they had shaken off the orcs.

"First," he therefore said, "we need to find a proper shelter for the night." He shivered again as a cold wind rushed past them . "And then we need water and maybe something to eat as well. You need to replenish your strength." Aragorn tried to smile reassuringly at Legolas, but the elf leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. Valar, Legolas looked tired!

"Legolas, did you just hear me?" Aragorn asked, his voice shaking slightly. The sight of the silent and unresponsive elf was worrying him.

"Aye, I hear you." Legolas's eyelids fluttered and he slowly opened his eyes. His voice was soft when he spoke, and he seemed to have problems to focus his gaze on Aragorn's face. "You are right, Estel, we should leave." He tried to push himself to his feet, and Aragorn quickly grabbed him under the arms and helped him. For a moment, Legolas had to lean heavily against the tree to stop his unsteady swaying.

"I will help you, Legolas." Aragorn said, wrapping an arm around the elf's waist and placing the archer's other arm over his shoulders. Legolas winced and moaned softly, but he did not pull away. "I'm sorry if I did hurt you, mellon nin." The ranger said softly, gazing into his friend's pale face. He knew that the elf must hurt tremendously because of his injury, and surely the concussion would not make things any better.

"I'm fine, Estel, do not worry about me." Legolas tried to smile at him, but failed miserably. "Let us just get away from here."

And that, they did. Slowly, the two friends made their way through the dark forest, further and further away from the place where their group had been attacked. They did not know it, but instead of nearing the end of the small forest, they were entering deeper and deeper, and soon Aragorn had lost his way completely, not knowing where North or South were any longer. With Legolas in his arms he stumbled onwards for as long as his feet carried him. When his strength waned and he feared that he would collapse, his eyes finally spotted a man high rock, nestled between some thick bushes. It was not the best shelter they could have hoped for, but it was better than what they had spotted so far.

Tired, exhausted and hurting, Aragorn lowered Legolas to the ground, before he sank to his knees and let his head hang wearily. For the last hour, Legolas had not spoken, and Aragorn had practically carried him. When the young ranger lifted his head to look at his friend, Legolas had already lost consciousness. He lay unmoving on the ground with his eyes closed, and had it not been for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he might have been dead.

With a groan, for all his limbs seemed to hurt, Aragorn moved closer to the rock. Leaning against it with his back, he slowly unsheathed his sword and placed it next to him, right next to his sword arm. If the orcs came back while they rested, he wanted to be prepared. Then, he gathered Legolas into his arms and placed the elf's head into his lap. For many moments he stroked the blonde hair and simply watched his friend. But then his own weariness swiftly claimed him. He had just placed a tender kiss on Legolas's brow, when his eyelids fluttered shut and he fell into a light slumber. Above the treetops, the sky was turning from a dark black into a sickly grey. A new day had come.

To be continued.

**Will the rest of the party from Rivendell arrive to save them? Will the orcs come back? What will happen if they walk in the wrong direction and head right back to the orcs? Are there wolves in the forest? You will find out next week.**

**And if you want to make me write fater, drop me a line or two and tell me what you think of this chapter. ;)**


	6. Mistake

**A/N: I am so sorry! I am two days late with updating! But real life got in the way. But, here you are, the next chapter. Jaha! Thank you all for the nice reviews. They really encourage me to continue to write. :)**

Chapter 6: Mistake

Aragorn woke with a start from his slumber, bathed in sweat. He had dreamed again, the same dream that haunted him since spring, and that night it had been as brutal as it had not been for a long time. It left him shaken and upset, and he wiped his face with shaking fingers. When his eyes finally looked around, he saw that he was not in his room in Imladris, but still in the same forest he had been in yesterday. He was waking from one nightmare into the next.

Sighing, Aragorn gazed at Legolas. While Aragorn had slept, the elf had turned onto his side and had drawn his knees up to his chest, but he had made no attempt to remove his head from its comfortable position on Aragorn's lap. With a small, relived smile Aragorn noticed that Legolas's eyes were no longer closed but half lidded, as was the way with elves when they slept. Gently, Aragorn stroked the elf's forehead, careful to avoid the ugly gash. Legolas would be fine, he simply knew it. And, Aragorn realized a moment later, he really needed to get up.

His back was hurting from sitting up all night, and his chest and leg wereching too. To make matters worse, he could barely feel his legs (apart from the part that was hurting him), which felt frozen to the core, as did his fingers. When Aragorn looked at them, he noticed that his fingertips were tinged an unhealthy blue. With a grimace, he fisted his hands and shook them to restart the blood circulation. While he waited for the blood to return to his fingers, he looked at his surroundings. He had not been able to see much the previous night, as he had been exhausted and it had been almost pitch black.

Their hiding place was surrounded by high trees to all sides. Long, greenish moss covered their trunks, thick, twisted roots broke through the forest ground, and yellowish plants hung from the thick branches. This part of the woods looked different from the part that they had travelled through the day before, and Aragorn wondered why that was so. At that moment, his empty stomach rumbled rather loudly, reminding him that he had not had any breakfast yet, while he had exhausted himself the night before. Looking around more closely, Aragorn meant to make out some bushes that still carried berries.

Another quick look at Legolas told him that the elf was still fast asleep. With care, the man shifted the elf's head off of his lap, pillowing it on brown leaves and needles, then slowly climbed to his feet. Aragorn's back ached fiercely, as if he had torn his muscles in their flight, and his legs wobbled under him. He felt weak, an experience that he had not had many times in his young life. As soon as he stood upright, Aragorn felt another pressing matter make an appearance. With a few ungraceful steps he vanished into the bushes to relieve himself quickly.

Feeling a bit better, Aragorn made his way over to the bush he had seen. It indeed carried some berries; they were a bit shrunken already and some were moldy, but there were still enough to still the worst of their hunger.

He had never seen berries such as these before, and he was not even sure whether they could be eaten. Unsure what to do, Aragorn sniffed at one of them and then squished it in his hand. While the berries were red on the outside, their flesh was white, with tiny black seeds. Deciding that he would never know whether they were eatable or not when he did not try them, Aragorn stuck out his tongue and licked at the squashed berry. To his surprise, it tasted not at all bitter, but quite sweet. Still, Aragorn had been a ranger for some time now, and he knew that even good tasting plants could be poisonous, like foxglove for example. Maybe it was better to wait for Legolas to wake; it could very well be that the elf had seen these berries before. Aragorn picked as many as he could and carried them over to where Legolas still lay.

Sitting down on the hard ground, he began to sort out the bad berries, throwing them over his shoulder into the woods. When he was done, there were still a few handfuls of berries left. Aragorn's stomach rumbled again, and he looked longingly at the red fruits. He '_was_' incredibly hungry. Maybe he could eat just a few…

Gazing at Legolas, Aragorn contemplated whether he should wake his friend or not. The elf had sustained two bad injuries, one to the shoulder and one to the back. While he needed to eat and drink something to replenish the fluids he had lost, he also needed all the rest he could get. After another long moment, Aragorn sighed and decided that he would wait a bit longer before waking Legolas.

Leaning back at the rock that had sheltered them the previous night, Aragorn shifted his position until he came to the conclusion that he simply would not get comfortable. With a sigh, he sat up straight again. Now that he was awake, the various hurts of his body made themselves presentable. He looked down at his hands. His palms were scratched, here and there quite deeply. Dried blood clung to his nails, as well as dirt. Without any water to clean them, Aragorn merely brushed them against his trousers to wipe the worst of the dirt and blood away.

Then, he carefully lifted his tunic and shirt to take a look at his chest. It had hurt him since he had fallen from his horse, and although he was quite sure that he had broken no ribs, he wanted to make sure. In the light that made it through the treetops, he saw that the left side of his chest was a sea of purple bruises. They spread from his shoulder down to his hip, and while the ones all the way up and down on his body were of a soft blue, the ones in the middle were a deep shade of purple, some even black. Aragorn sighed and touched his side lightly, before he traced the outline of his ribs with his fingers. It hurt, but it also showed him that he had indeed broken no bones. He had been lucky.

Tucking his shirt and tunic back into his leggings to staff off the cold air, Aragorn turned to his last injury. His leg hurt, and he could not even tell where it hurt the most. After a bit of stretching and moving the limb, he came to the conclusion that it hurt the most where the thigh met his hip. A quick look down his pants showed him that there were no bruises there, but the skin was warm to the touch and slightly swollen. Maybe he had twisted his leg badly when he had tumbled down the slope. Be that as it may, it was an injury that Aragorn could not treat, and so he merely massaged his leg for some minutes to lose the muscles, before he placed Legolas's head back into his lap so that the elf would be comfortable, before he wrapped his arms around his chest and tucked his hands under his arms for warmth. Then, he waited.

Morning turned into midday, and still the Prince showed no signs of waking. Aragorn had checked him over more than once, always making sure that Legolas's was breathing and lying as comfortably as he could. In the dim light that reached the forest ground, Aragorn could already see the long gash on Legolas's forehead begin to heal, and he was heartened at the sight. If an injured elf began to heal due to his own healing abilities, it always was a sign that the elf was not injured life threateningly.

While his legs still hurt and his chest ached from time to time, Aragorn felt other things even more clearly than the pain. He was incredibly thirsty, cold and hungry. More than once he contemplated to get up and look for some water, and the berries he had plucked from the bush looked more inviting with every hour that passed. When midday passed into afternoon, Aragorn finally gave up. His throat was hurting by now, his bones seemed to have frozen, and his stomach was rumbling so loudly that he feared every evil creature would hear him.

With stiff fingers he reached for the berries that lay on the ground next to him. The fruits were looking sweet and juicy, and before Aragorn had the time to contemplate the matter any further, he put one of the berries into his mouth. He rolled it on his tongue for a moment, before he bit into it. Sweet, liquid fruit juice filled his mouth. The fruit tasted delicious. Aragorn quickly put some more of the red berries into his mouth, chewing slowly. The juice ran down his throat, soothing it. Before he knew it, he had eaten all the berries.

Feeling slightly guilty that he had eaten more than his share – Legolas would want to eat something before they left that place, too – Aragorn wiped his hands on his leggings. He would have o pick some more before Legolas woke up. Looking down, he saw that Legolas was still fast asleep. Reaching out, he tucked a strand of light hair behind the elf's ear. Aragorn frowned. Were the tips of his fingers blue because of the berries, or were his fingers still '_that_' cold? With a worried frown, he shook his hands, made a fist, and then tucked them back under his arms.

When day turned into night, Aragorn became truly worried. Legolas had still not showed any sign of waking, while Aragorn had lost his feeling in his legs (not that he minded that the pain had gone). With darkness creeping through the forest, Aragorn felt his eyelids grow heavy. He had been up most of the night, and although he had slept for some hours, he felt incredibly tired. Yawning, he rested his head against the rock in his back and closed his eyes. He was so tired…

Something cracked in the underbrush, making Aragorn jump. His heart beat with a speed that he only knew from fighting battles, and sweat stood on his brow. He looked around with wide eyes, realizing in the split of a second that it was deep at night; he must have fallen asleep. Black shadows danced between the trees, creating frightening images. Aragorn listened intently into the silence that surrounded him. What had woken him? Was something out there? Had the orcs found them?

Breathing shallowly, Aragorn waited and stared, but he saw absolutely nothing. No sound reached his ears but his own breathing, and when many minutes had passed, he leaned back against the rock and wiped his hand across his brow. A quick look at Legolas showed him that the elf was still asleep.

Aragorn could find not sleep for the rest of the night.

When morning dawned, Legolas finally stirred. The Prince blinked his eyes and looked around in confusion, before he remembered what had happened. He sat up slowly, leaning heavily on Aragorn, and rubbed his eyes. He winced when his fingers touched the gash on his forehead.

"Easy Legolas." Aragorn said, ready to support his friend should Legolas falter. "You have been unconscious for quite some time."

"How long?" Legolas more croaked than said; apparently he was as thirsty as Aragorn had been.

"A full day and the last night. The second day after the battle just breaks."

Legolas stared at the man in shock, "That long?"

"Aye." It was all Aragorn said. Rather than talking, Aragorn leaned forwards and inspected Legolas's eyes. To his relief, the pupils were not dilated any longer, and some color had returned to Legolas's face. Had it not been for the ugly gash on his forehead, Aragorn would not have assumed that something was amiss. "You look better. How do you feel?" Aragorn placed his hand over Legolas's, giving it a squeeze. Now that Legolas was awake, all the tension and fear seemed to fall off his shoulders. Aragorn felt as if he must crumble to the ground any moment out of sheer tiredness.

"I feel better, Estel." Legolas said, gazing at his friend intently. "But how are you?" There was worry in Legolas's voice, and he softly traced his fingers down Aragorn's stubbly chin. "You look tired, meleth nin. Have you been up all day and night?"

Aragorn laughed softly, "Not all day and night."

Legolas frowned but asked no further. He knew as well as Aragorn that the man had had no other choice than to stay awake while Legolas had been unconscious. This forest was not safe, and dangers lurked everywhere. Sitting up straighter, Legolas inspected their surroundings. He still had a slight headache and his shoulder ached quite a bit, but he would manage. It was time to get out of the forest and find the other elves.

"Where are we, Estel?"

Sighing, Aragorn shook his head, "I have no idea. I just ran and well, this is where we landed." He thought for a moment. "I could climb a tree and try to spot the Anduin. At least we would then know our position and the direction we have to follow ."

"No, that is not necessary." Legolas smiled and turned to Aragorn. "I cannot see the sun through these clouds, but I can tell where it is nonetheless." He pointed straight ahead. "This is East."

Aragorn groaned. They had run Northwards for a whole night on their flight from the orcs, which meant that they had run away from the river, too. Or, had at least not neared the end of this forest . "Then we will not meet the others on the way out of here." He said, knowing that the elves would have surely not have fled northwards, but eastwards.

"Most likely not." Legolas nodded. "But it does not matter. For as long as we meet no orcs, I am content." He smiled. "You came back for me when the orc attacked me. You put me on your horse although you knew that it would endanger you. You practically carried me to safety. And then you watched over me all this time." He sounded touched by Aragorn's protectiveness and leaned closer. His eyes seemed huge in the dim morning light. "Hannon le, melethron.

Legolas closed his eyes and very, very softly kissed Aragorn full on the lips. He wrapped his arms around Aragorn and pulled him close. Aragorn immediately leaned into the touch, placing his arms around Legolas, ever mindful of the elf's injury. He broke the kiss and buried his head in Legolas's hair instead, he shuddered, but said nothing. The images of the orcs raced through his mind, their flight, the arrow that stuck out of Legolas's back, the blood. Aragorn could not help but hiccup.

"Shh." Legolas soothed, knowing what his young friend was experiencing right now. He stroked the dark locks with one hand, until he felt some of the tension leave Aragorn's shoulders. "I'm here now and all will be well."

They sat like that for some minutes, neither of them feeling quite ready to part. But they both knew that they needed to get out of the forest, and that the daylight, no matter how weak it was, was their best chance. Orcs hated the sun and loved the dark; maybe the creatures would hide in their holes during the day.

So, Legolas finally withdrew his arms from Aragorn and slowly stood to his feet. Reaching down, he pulled Aragorn up as well. The man wobbled on his feet and leaned heavily against the rock, massaging his thighs.

"Estel, are you well?" Legolas asked concerned.

"Yes, yes, just stiff." Aragorn replied, hoping that he was right and that his leg would not trouble him further. "Let us go, walking will warm the muscles." He hobbled away from the rock with a strong limp, and walked around their resting place a few times until the limp was gone and his legs hurt far less.

Together with Legolas, Aragorn tried his best to hide all the traces that they had been there. As silently as they could, they made their way into the forest, heading southeast. Before they vanished into the trees, they passed the bush with the berries. Remembering that Legolas must be hungry and thirsty, Aragorn stopped and reached out to pick some berries.

"I would not touch those, Estel." Legolas said glumly, "They are poisonous."

To be continued.


	7. Safe?

**A/N: Here we go again...**

Chapter 7: Safe?

'Poisonous?' Aragorn thought, shocked? He must have looked shocked, for Legolas supplied helpfully, „They might taste sweet, but they are indeed dangerous. As far as I know they cannot kill, but they can make you very miserable."

Aragorn said nothing. He '_could_' say nothing. His mouth seemed to have forgotten how to speak, and when Legolas turned around and vanished between the trees, Aragorn simply followed him. How stupid had he been? How could he have eaten berries he did not know? Had his father not told him time and time again that one must not eat something that one knew not? That dangers lurked in the most beautiful places? Legolas had said that the berries did not kill, but…maybe that was only true for elves. What about humans? As if he could feel the poisonous berries rumble in his stomach, Aragorn pressed his hand on his belly. He needed to tell Legolas. His friend needed to know! But…Aragorn said nothing. He could not.

Legolas and Aragorn travelled southeast, hoping to evade the orcs and reach the end of the forest at the same time. Having been east of the Misty Mountains before, Legolas knew that the forest was not '_that_' big, and that they should reach its boundaries late at night or in the early hours of morning, depending on how fast they walked…and if they met orcs on their way.

Of course, the injury Legolas had sustained slowed his pace, and Aragorn's legs hurt more than he dared to admit, and so they were not surprised when night fell and they had not spotted the end of the forest yet. During their long march, Aragorn had felt

Increasingly strange. He was not sick, or dizzy or feverish, but simply….strange. He could not say what it was and he could not pinpoint his feeling unwell, but he knew that Legolas was right and that the berries were poisonous. He just hoped that 'it', whatever it was, would pass without causing any major problems.

They settled down for the night in the shadow of a gnarled tree, which's trunk was covered in moss and leeches. While Legolas leaned his head against the tree and drew comfort from it, Aragorn huddled closer to the trunk to shield him from the cold wind that blew. Even in the gloaming he could tell that the tips of his fingers were still blue, and judging by the numb feeling in his feet, his toes must have turned blue from the cold, too. Aragorn felt incredibly weak and tired. He had slept little the previous night and the anxiety during the day only fuelled his exhaustion. And so it was no surprise that his eyelids drooped as soon as his body hit the hard forest ground.

"Estel?" Legolas shook his shoulder, whispering into his ear. Unusual for Aragorn, the young man needed a few moments to fully waken. He blinked at the elf owlishly and mumbled, "What?"

"You fell asleep, Estel." It was difficult for Aragorn to see something in the darkness of the forest, and Legolas's face was nothing more than a brighter speck in the darkness.

"Oh." Aragorn said, sitting up straighter and leaning more heavily against the tree trunk. When had his arms begun to feel that heavy? "That was not my intention."

Legolas shifted closer to him, "This forest is dangerous, Estel. I can almost feel the eyes of the orcs on us. We must stay alert."

Aragorn nodded his head, but he could feel his eyelids droop on their own accord. Valar, he was so tired. Before he knew it, his head bumped gently against the tree and he fell asleep once more. Again, Legolas shook him awake, more forcefully this time. Once he had Aragorn's attention, the elf hissed, "Estel! Stay awake! You know as well as I do that orcs prowl at night. We must not get caught, we must stay focused."

"I am so tired, Legolas." Aragorn said softly, feeling weak to the bone. In that very moment, he doubted that he would be able to get up at all.

Worry and sympathy seeped into Legolas's voice, and he placed his good arm across Aragorn's shoulder. "I know, my friend. You stayed up while I could not watch over us, and I wished I could let you sleep now, but I fear that we both need our wits tonight if we are to survive."

Sighing, Aragorn nodded his head. This small movement seemed to cost so much energy, that he had problems to lift his head again. The cold of the night crept into his bones, numbing his legs and arms, and while his chest still hurt, the rest of his body seemed to shut down. All the sounds grew softer and the night darker, and while Aragorn tried to keep his eyes open, the world around him seemed to move away. For a short, tiny moment Aragorn wondered whether the berries had something to do with this, but then his eyelids drooped again. He knew that Legolas was probably right with what he had said about the prowling orcs, and although he knew that Legolas, being wounded, could not adequately defend himself, but his whole body was so exhausted, that even this knowledge could not prevent him from dozing off again almost immediately. His head fell against Legolas's shoulder, and his body sagged to the ground.

"Estel! Stay awake." Legolas shook him, but the young human did not wake. "Estel?" Legolas shook the man again, harder this time, and after a few long moment, Aragorn managed to open his eyes just a bit.

"Estel, I know that you are tired, but you must stay awake." Legolas peered into Aragorn's eyes, then shook his head, "You are a ranger, Estel. I have seen you go without sleep for days. What is it with you tonight?" There was worry in Legolas's voice.

"Nothing, just tired." Aragorn mumbled; his eyes were already closed again.

Legolas was silent for a moment, then sighed and pulled Aragorn closer. As if on its own accord, Aragorn's head came to rest on Legolas's shoulder. "Then rest, Estel, I will keep watch for both of us." Aragorn sighed and was asleep within seconds. Legolas shook his head and wrapped his good arm around Aragorn's waist. His blue eyes looked worriedly down on his sleeping friend, while his other hand stroked some stray locks out of Aragorn's face. The elf could not tell what it was, but something was not feeling right about the human, as if the man was hiding something. Legolas had travelled with Aragorn before, and he knew that the ranger could go days with little sleep or nourishment. For Aragorn to be that tired after what they had been through was strange indeed. No, something was definitely not as it should be.

Knowing that he would find no answers to his questions, Legolas placed a tender kiss of Aragorn's unruly locks, before he peered into the surrounding darkness. He had to be strong for the both of them tonight, just like Aragorn had been the night before. He would make sure that nothing happened to them, not on his watch.

But things did not go as planned, and it was in the early hours of morning that Legolas's fine elvish hearing warned him of danger. Immediately, Legolas tried to find the source of the sounds he was hearing, and it did not take him long to make out the sounds. Feet. He could hear many heavy feet trotting over the ground, and a moment later the wind carried the foul voices of orcs to his ears.

Fear and urgency shot through Legolas, and he shook Aragorn to wake him. But instead of waking, Aragorn's head fell from Legolas's shoulder. Had it not been for the elf's quick reflexes, Aragorn would have slumped senselessly to the ground. Slightly panicked, Legolas gripped Aragorn roughly by the shoulders and shook him. "Estel! Awaken! Estel!"

Aragorn moaned softly, but finally, after what seemed like minutes, he opened his eyes and sat up very slowly. "Le-olas?" He mumbled.

"Aye, it's me. Wake up, Estel, wake up! We need to move!" Legolas glanced over his shoulder, afraid that the orcs might see or hear them. He could tell that the evil beasts were near.

"Leave?" Sleepily, Aragorn focused his gaze on Legolas's face. "Why?"

"Why?" Legolas hissed, flabbergasted at his friend's reaction. "Because orcs are near, can you not hear them?"

Aragorn shook his head and blinked his eyes again; it was clear that he was only slowly waking. Even in the dim moonlight that here and there reached the forest ground, his face was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. While Aragorn tried to shake the last vestiges of sleep from his mind, Legolas already got to his feet. The elf leaned against the tree and peered into the darkness. Morning was not far away now; the horizon was already turning grey.

Unseen by Legolas, who was watching their surroundings for the first signs of the orcs, Aragorn tried to get to his feet. The undertone of fear and tension in Legolas voice had reached his mind and put him on alert. His brain seemed to be slow and still halfway asleep, but even so Aragorn knew that they were in extreme danger. But, to his surprise, his legs would not support his weight and he flopped down on all fours with a surprised intake of breath.

Scared, Aragorn found that his fingers were numb and stiff, he could barely move them. The leg that he had injured during his fall from his horse shot stabs of pain up his thigh and side, and all his limbs seemed to be too heavy to move. It was as if he was under water, struggling to run. Aragorn tried to climb to his feet once more, bracing his arms on his legs and using a brush as support. Painstakingly slow he finally made it to his feet, but his legs felt all wobbly and weak. The forest swam before his eyes for a moment, before it became stationary once more. The young man knew that it was probably the poison of the berries that was affecting him, combined with his exhaustion and injuries.

And, Aragorn knew that he would not be able to walk far or even fight. He needed to tell Legolas, his friend needed to know. Aragorn drew in a breath and was just to tell the elf, when Legolas suddenly spun around, eyes wide with horror.

"They are coming our way! We need to get away, now!" Legolas looked around for some place to hide, somewhere to run to, but there was nothing. This part of the forest was sparse with undergrowth, the trees the only protection they had. They both knew that the orcs would easily spot them if they ran away. When this thought entered Legolas's mind, his head shot up and he gazed at the trees around them. "We need to get into the treetops. Maybe the orcs will simply pass under us and walk on."

Aragorn swallowed and looked up at the trees. He had never been a good tree-climber, and while the trees around them had thick branches, there were few leaves left this late in the season. Would he be able to blend into the foliage well enough for the orcs not to spot them? And more importantly, would he make it up the tree with his numb fingers and wobbly legs?

Before he had time to think above these things, however, Legolas gave him a little shove towards the tree in which's shadow they had been resting. "Up, Estel, get up, quickly now!" Reaching for a branch, Legolas began to swiftly climb the tree. In his haste, he was only little hampered by his injured shoulder, for his adrenalin was dulling the pain he was in. He was already halfway up the tree when Aragorn moved at all.

Hearing the approach of the orcs, Aragorn reached up and wrapped his stiff fingers around a low hanging branch. Slowly, he pulled himself up, but his feet seemed to weigh as much as large boulders. He barely managed to make it up on the first thick branch, and he had to rest there and catch his breath. Sweating, Aragorn shook his head at his body's stiffness and numbness. Then, suddenly, the screech of an orc shattered the stillness of the night, and Aragorn shivered. They were near.

From, above him, Legolas whispered in a rapid stream of elvish, urging him to climb higher. Looking up, Aragorn could barely make out Legolas's light hair, the only part of Legolas he could make out in the darkness. Fuelled by determination, Aragorn took a deep breath and reached for the next branch. His legs wobbled under him and he could barely feel the wood under his fingers, but he made it up the next branch all the same. He was halfway up the next, when unexpectedly strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him up. Legolas had come to help him. Within moments, Aragorn stood on a branch next to the elf, sweaty and shaking. He wrapped his arms around the trunk to steady himself, before he nodded his thanks to Legolas. The elf frowned at him and opened his mouth to say something, but in just that moment the first orcs broke through the bushes underneath.

The orcs screeched and talked in their foul language; they carried vicious clubs and scimitars, and seemed to be agitated. Of course, neither Aragorn nor Legolas could tell for sure, for neither spoke the foul language of Mordor. One by one, the orcs passed by their position.

Beside Legolas, Aragorn tried not to move at all. He knew that even the slightest movement could cause some dry leaves to fall to the ground, or a twig to break and reveal their position. And if the orcs caught them, they would be tortured and killed. His heart beating wildly in his chest, Aragorn gazed at Legolas. The elf stood still and silent, his eyes fixed at the foul beasts beneath them. The young man could tell that there was anger in Legolas's eyes as well as fear and tension. All elves hated the orcs, and although they did not engage them in battle when they knew they could not win, every living orc was a reminder of Sauron to the elves. Of Sauron and his former, even crueler master Morgoth.

Aragorn did not look down, for the climb up the tree had made him dizzy. It was not so bad as to give him any trouble, but he feared that if he moved, it would get worse. His legs still felt unsteady and his injured leg hurt quite a bit. No, Aragorn did not want to endanger them even more by looking down. Instead, he closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against the trunk of the tree he still hugged, and hoped that the orcs would simply move on. And it seemed that his hopes would come true, for one by one the orcs walked past their hiding place. When the last of the foul beasts vanished into the shadows, Legolas and Aragorn allowed themselves to exhale slowly.

That was, until one of the foul beasts suddenly returned. It looked around as if it was searching for something, then inhaled deeply. It called something in its black tongue, and a moment later more orcs appeared at its side. They were all looking around, their yellow eyes flickering here and there. And then, they seemed to sniff the air like dogs.

Aragorn blanched visibly when he heard the sniffing noises, and completely forgetting his dizziness, he glanced down at the orcs. His heart trembled in his chest like a young bird would before a cat, and his eyes widened. His brothers had told him all they knew about orcs, and one of the things they had told him had been, that orcs had very fine noses, and could smell their prey as wolves could. Knowing that his brothers had killed more orcs than any, Aragorn had asked them how that could have been possible, when orcs could smell so well. They had told him that orcs could not smell elves very well, but other creatures….like humans. Aragorn felt his hands become clammy. The orcs had smelled him. Slowly, he lifted his head and locked his eyes with Legolas's. He had unintentionally endangered his best friend and lover.

For a moment, neither Aragorn not Legolas did anything, while the orcs grew in number, all of them sniffing the air, searching for the human they could smell but not see. When the first orcs looked up a tree opposite of the one Aragorn and Legolas were in, Legolas sprang into action.

The elf leaned forwards until his ear was close to the human's, and he spoke so softly that even Aragorn could barely hear him, "We need to leave, now. We have to move from tree to tree, always towards the one they have already searched." Legolas voice cracked his adrenalin and emotion, and Aragorn could tell that the elf was afraid. There were more than twenty orcs down there; one misstep and they were dead.

The young ranger could only nod at his friend's words, but cold sweat broke out on his body immediately. He had never been a good tree-climber, and he had never truly managed the art of '_walking_' in the trees as the elves could. He could do it fairly well under controlled conditions, but now it was not only dark and cold, but there was also a great number of orcs out for their blood, he was injured and poisoned. His fear must have been written on his face, for Legolas smiled at him reassuringly, "You can do this, Estel, believe me." Aragorn nodded weakly and flinched when one of the orcs howled loudly. Seeing the insecurity and fear in the young man's eyes, Legolas leaned closer and hugged the man as good as he could, standing on a tree and with one injured arm. He looked Aragorn deep into the eyes, trying to convey his love and affection for the young mortal. "I love you, Estel." Legolas whispered, before he kissed Aragorn soundly on the mouth. "And I trust in your strength, meleth nin."

Aragorn inhaled deeply. He tried not to look down and to trust in Legolas's words, but he could feel his legs wobble under him and his hands grip the tree trunk weakly. The orcs seemed to split into groups and to begin to search the forest; they could hear the foul beasts sniff the air. Shivering from the cold and fear, Aragorn gazed at Legolas. The elf had turned and was gauging the distance to the next tree, ready to jump. Aragorn felt his heart beat painfully in his chest. He knew that it was his fault that the orcs had found them. Had it not been for him, his human smell, the orcs would probably have walked by their hiding place without stopping. And now, because he was with Legolas, the orcs would probably find them. Aragorn shuddered when he thought about the stories he had heard about what orcs did to elves. He could not even imagine what horrors Legolas would went through if the orcs would catch him.

Another screech filled the air and it made the tiny hairs on Aragorn's arms stand on end. He had endangered Legolas, he had made it possible that the orcs caught them after all, he had…not even told Legolas that he was injured himself and that he had eaten the poisonous berries. Legolas did not know that he was feeling unwell, that he was a danger in itself. Legolas was thinking that he was well, that he could follow him through the trees, that he would not slow him down, that he would not give them away, that he could trust him. And all that was a lie. Aragorn felt his eyes burn with shame. Had they not promised each other to never lie again? Aye, they had. And here he was, and he had not told Legolas that he was poisoned. Legolas needed to know…

Reaching out, Aragorn grabbed the sleeve of Legolas's tunic, directing the elf's attention away from the orcs. Legolas's head snapped around; Aragorn could read the tension in the blue orbs that reminded him so much of a clear blue sky on a warm summer's day. Legolas gazed at him questioningly, asking why the man had broken his concentration while he had so intently been watching the enemy. And Aragorn opened his mouth to answer, to tell him what had happened, but he could not. He dared not. What would Legolas say? And Aragorn closed his mouth again, feeling ashamed and cowardly like he had never felt before in his young life.

Legolas frowned and arched an eyebrow. Beneath them, the orcs came steadily closer to the tree they were hiding in. Aragorn knew that in but a few moments they would have to leave the tree they were in and would have to climb into the boughs of the next one. He knew not whether he could make it, and he knew that it was his fault if they were caught. But he could not live with the thought that he was responsible for Legolas's death. This elf meant the world to him, and the thought alone of Legolas never leaving this woods was more than he could bear.

Swallowing and ignoring the feeling of lightheadedness that swept over him, Aragorn leaned closer to Legolas and whispered, "Legolas, I want you to promise me something." The Prince frowned even deeper, but said nothing. "If I don't make it, I want you to leave here." Aragorn paused as he felt Legolas stiffen. He went on regardless, "Without me."

Immediately Legolas shook his head, his eyes wide. There was concern and fear in the ageless eyes, and so much protectiveness and love that Aragorn meant his heart would break. Before Legolas could voice his protest, though, Aragorn kissed him, tears in his eyes. "Promise me, melethron. Please."

Legolas bit his bottom lip in clear indecision. He did not want to leave his friend behind, come what may, but he knew that if he made this promise, Aragorn would feel better. While the thought to leave Legolas back was choking Aragorn, the thought of leaving Aragorn behind was more than Legolas could bear. But the elf also knew that they needed to be ready to move on in but a few moments, and he knew that his young lover needed this reassurance. So, Legolas nodded his head gravely, "I promise if you promise the same."

The same look of protest that had stolen over Legolas's features entered Aragorn's eyes, but the young man simply nodded his head, "I promise." His voice was almost inaudible.

"Then so do I." Legolas said, feeling a dark wave of foreboding steal over him. But before he could react to his senses warning, the orcs reached the tree next to the one they were standing in, and his mind focused on this immediate threat. Aragorn and Legolas watched with their breaths held as the orcs looked up into the branches of the tree, one of them throwing a stone into the foliage. The orcs had no bows, but Legolas doubted that the foul beasts would have shot arrows into the trees anyway; orcs were not known to be good archers and they would surely not waste arrows on innocent leaves.

They waited until the orcs grunted in disappointment and moved to the tree they were hiding in. Quickly, Legolas grabbed Aragorn by the hand and pulled him over the thick branch they were standing on. The minimal foliage gave them enough cover to reach the end of the branch unseen. Without any hesitation, Legolas bent him knees and jumped into the tree the orcs had just searched. Behind him, Aragorn grabbed a branch above him to steady himself. His head was fuzzy and the world swam before his eyes. As soon as Legolas had made it into the next tree, Aragorn took a deep breath. Only a few feet away, Legolas beckoned him to jump. Feeling sweaty, shaky and weak, Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment. Beneath him, the orcs had reached the tree.

Aragorn let go of the branch and jumped.

To be continued.

**Was that an evil cliffhanger or what? Mwuhaha**.


	8. Failure

**Here we go again. Sorry that it took a little longer than usual. Thanks for the reviews, they made me very happy.**

**A/N: This chapter has a torture warning.**

Chapter 8: Failure

Aragorn's feet left the branch, which creaked slightly under his weight. He felt himself sail through the air for just a moment, before his body crashed into the elf's, Legolas's strong arms wrapped around him, and he was finding himself standing on the branch of the tree the orcs had already searched. He had made it!

Quickly and as silently as they could, Legolas and Aragorn moved towards the trunk of the tree, deeper into the foliage. Aragorn could feel Legolas's arms around his waist, and he was thankful for the support. The jump had made his head increasingly dizzy and his legs felt as if they would give away under him at any moment. Unconsciously, he leaned against Legolas's strong form.

While Legolas intently watched the orcs, trying to anticipate their next steps, Aragorn closed his eyes to gather his strength. He took deep breaths, hoping that the fresh air would clear his head and let strength seep back into his arms and legs. But with every moment he stood on the branch, his strength seemed to wane instead of coming back. Cold sweat dripped into his eyes and his dark locks were plastered to his face. Suddenly, his legs gave out from under him, and he felt himself sagging in Legolas's arms.

"Estel!" Legolas tightened his hold, tried to hold him upright, and his voice was filled with surprise and stark fear. But, with his injured shoulder and taken so by surprise, Legolas could not hold him. Aragorn felt his feet slip on the branch, tried weakly to hold on to Legolas's tunic, but his numb fingers could find no hold. His body slipped from Legolas's grasp, he tumbled sideways, then felt the air rush past him. A second later, his body crashed to the forest ground, where it lay unmoving.

For a moment, nothing happened. It was as if time stood still. And then, everything happened at once.

Aragorn groaned and blinked his eyes open. Somewhere above him Legolas screamed his name, his voice echoing across the silent woods. The orcs, having heard and seen him falling out of the tree howled in glee and ran towards him. The ground shook from their heavy booted feet. A moment later, Aragorn felt clawed hands in his hair, yanking his head up. Other hands grabbed his arms, twisting them painfully behind his back. Booted feet prodded him and more than one sword tip pressed against his back.

Above him, Legolas made as if to climb down from the tree, while the orcs howled and jeered. They had seen the elf, and one or two were already reaching for the branches to climb up to him. Aragorn felt a fist connect with his side, another was slammed into his back. His chest flared with pain, telling him that a rib had just been broken. More and more fists hit him, and he tried to curl in on himself. But even then, his thoughts turned to Legolas. Legolas must not be caught, he must not! Not because of him, because of his humanity, of his failure.

His heart constricted as he heard Legolas call his name, over and over. Blinking, he opened his eyes and tried to spot Legolas. All he could see where hairy legs, but then another fist hit him in the small of his back and he arched painfully. The legs around him shifted, and through the gap he could see the tree. Rolling onto his side painfully, Aragorn raised his head as much as he could. His searching eyes found Legolas, and his heart stopped beating for a moment.

The elf stood on one of the lower branches, ready to jump to the ground. Two orcs were in the tree, too, almost near enough to reach him. Fear and anger stood in Legolas's eyes, as well as horror. Another fist hit him so hard that he could not breathe for a moment. Everything dimmed, before the world came into focus. Aragorn knew that the orcs would kill him. And he was afraid. But still, when he locked his eyes on Legolas, he opened his mouth and called as loudly as he could, "Drego, Legolas! Drego!" (Flee, Legolas! Flee). A foot stomped down hard on his stomach, making him gasp and draw up his legs. His voice was weaker, but still audible over the laughter of the orcs, "Drego, Legolas, you promised." His eyes found Legolas's once more and held them. "Get help." Then, unmercifully, a booted foot slammed into the side of his head, fire shot through his skull, and he knew no more.

Above him in the tree, Legolas watched helplessly as Aragorn vanished under the number of orcs that swarmed him. He could hear their fists connect with the flesh, and his stomach flipped violently. He knew not how this could have happened, but he knew that he needed to help Aragorn. Now! He was already halfway down the tree, when suddenly Aragorn called for him to flee. His eyes locked with Aragorn's, and Legolas saw the pain in them, but also the despair and fear. He could not leave! Aragorn was his friend, his lover, his brother in arms. Never would he leave him! But then Aragorn held his eyes, saying determinedly, '_You promised._' Aye, he had promised, but still….

If he left now, Aragorn was as good as dead. The orcs would have their fun and then kill him. Legolas could not let that happen. Aragorn had risked his life to save him from the orcs, he would do the same. The first orc reached his position. A long fingered hand wrapped around his ankle and tried to pull him down. Legolas drew one of his knives and cut the hand cleanly from the arm. The orcs howled and sprawled on the ground, but the other orcs only became more wild. They swore and howled, more and more of them trying to climb the tree. And between them, Aragorn still lay on the ground, unmoving and unconscious. Legolas felt his heart bleed in his chest at the sight. He needed to help his young friend.

Another orc grabbed at his feet, and Legolas cut the orc's arm deeply. The beast fell down from the tree, but was not dead. Breathing heavily, Legolas looked around. There were more than twenty orcs beneath him…too many to fight. If Aragorn had been conscious, maybe they had been able to fight them, but alone and injured, Legolas knew that he had no chance. The thought was sickening. Deep down, he knew that he could not fight all the orcs and live. He would be caught just like Aragorn had been, tortured and then killed…or worse. Something grey whizzed past his head, missing him by inches. An orc had thrown a stone at him.

It took Legolas just a second to make his decision, but he knew that it would haunt him for the rest of his life. In a fluent motion he sheathed his knife and jumped up the tree, out of the reach of the orcs. They howled louder and cursed him in their foul language, but Legolas paid them no more heed. His eyes were fixed on the unconscious form of his lover. "I will get help, Estel. And I will come back to get you, I promise." Legolas called, unheeding that the young ranger could not hear him. And then, before he could change his mind, Legolas sprang into the next tree, and the next and the next. Only once did he look back over his shoulder, only to see that several orcs were following him on the ground, while others had taken Aragorn by the feet and were dragging him away. Legolas stumbled and nearly feel from the tree, but his feet carried him ever eastwards, towards the end of the forest and away from the orcs…and the love of his life.

He almost fell from the last tree, having finally reached the end of the forest, and ran and ran until his feet would no longer carry his weight. Legolas fell to the ground in the high grass. Sunshine warmed his clammy skin and a bright blue sky spread above him. A new day had come. But all Legolas could do was cry. His balled fists slammed into the hard soil, and his scream of desperation and hurt sundered the air. He had left Aragorn. Left him alone in the captivity of orcs. He had sentenced him to a fate worse than death.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

It was nigh nighttime when Legolas finally saw a fire in the distance. He had run the whole day, hoping to find traces of the guards that had accompanied them, but he had spotted nothing. His only hope was that the elvish warriors had made it to the river and were waiting there for him and Aragorn to join them. If the warriors had made it out of the forest at all.

Stumbling, Legolas went on, his eyes fixed on the orange glow of the fire. He knew not if it were friends or foes, but he had no other option. He needed to find help. Aragorn needed help. And if it were foes around that fire, than so be it! Legolas felt that he deserved no better anyway.

He was close to the fire when he saw figures climbing to their feet. Their dark, tall shapes contrasted against the red flames. They drew swords and readied bows, but Legolas did not care. Instead, he willed his legs to move faster, to carry him towards the group of fighters. Every minute lost was a minute longer that Aragorn was alone with the orcs. He was but a few yards away from the fire when a figure separated itself from the group and came towards him. Blinking, Legolas recognized the figure as one of the guards of Lord Elrond.

Relief swept over him, and he called out to the elves. Before he knew it, his legs gave out from under him and he toppled to the ground in a heap. Undeterred, Legolas climbed to his feet again, stumbling onwards. Soon, strong arms helped him to stand and the elvish warriors crowded around him. They peppered him with questions, and many of them searched the night behind him with their eyes, as if they waited for Aragorn to appear out of the darkness, too.

Breathing heavily, Legolas let himself be guided to the ring of fire. He sat down on the ground, accepting the flask of water that was presented to him gratefully. Valar, he was thirsty. Incredibly thirsty. But as soon as he had drunken his fill, he handed the flaks back and looked intently at the elves around him. They seemed unhurt, and Legolas was grateful for that.

"Prince Legolas, what happened, where is Lord Estel?" One of the elves asked in concern, eyeing the healing gash on Legolas's forehead.

Swallowing, Legolas quickly recounted what had happened, not sparing himself in telling that he had left Aragorn alone in the hands of orcs. When he had told all that was to tell, he finished with, "We need to get back, right now. We need to save him."

It was silent for a moment as the elves looked at each other. None of them spoke. Then, finally, when Legolas thought that they would say nothing at all, the elf who had handed him the flask of water spoke, "Of course we will. We have promised our Lord to see his son and your Highness safely to Mirkwood, and that we will do. Lord Estel is one of our own, and we let no one behind."

Legolas sighed in relief. Of course he had not thought that the elves would not help Aragorn, but he had feared for just the tiniest bit of moments. A hand was placed on his shoulder and some way-bread pressed into his hands. "Eat, Prince Legolas, you need your strength now. Sanethor will look after your wounds while we break camp and ready the horses." And then the elf was gone, and another at his side. Legolas ate as he was told and even held still while another warrior tended to the gash on his forehead and the arrow wound in his shoulder. All around him, elves bustled to and fro, and he could tell just from looking at their faces that the elves were extremely worried. And, he could tell that more than one of them readied his horse in the surety that they were not riding out to rescue a man, but to recover a body. Legolas felt sick.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Aragorn had lost all feeling of time. He had woken up in the middle of the orcs, untied but knowing immediately that he would not be able to escape. There were simply too many of the foul beasts. And they were angry. Very angry.

From the moment he had woken, his head still dizzy and his vision blurry, Aragorn had known that Legolas had escaped. He could see his friend nowhere and surely, if Legolas had been caught, the orcs would not concentrate their hate on him, but Legolas instead. Elves were hated more than men. The knowledge that Legolas had heeded his words and escaped heartened Aragorn. At least Legolas would live.

But Aragorn was barely given time to enjoy this feeling of relief. With brutal strength the orcs hauled him to his feet, holding him upright when his legs threatened to give out. A huge, black orc moved towards him. Aragorn could smell his foul breath and the stench made him gag. Yellow, cat like eyes roamed over his body and a clawed finger traced down his cheek. The orc tapped his nail against Aragorn's cheek and spoke in a gurgling, barely understandable Westron, "Now, now, human. We will have our fun with you before we eat you." Aragorn felt his stomach churn.

A moment later, the orc, obviously the leader of the pack, ordered something in his black speech, and the orcs scrambled around the camp. Only now did Aragorn realize that they were no longer standing under the high trees, but near some huge rocks and boulders. Some of them were higher than a man tall, while others small or thin. But all of them were rough and the stone cracked by age and weather. They must have travelled while he had been unconscious; the sun was shining through the small trees here and there. But what caught Aragorn's attention was not the sun, but the rocks. There were dark smears on the stones, and Aragorn averted his gaze quickly. He really did not want to know what had caused those smudges.

Upon another command from the leader, he was shoved towards the rocks. He was pressed down so that he kneeled on the cold forest ground. Gravel and pebbles scratched his knees and hands. The orcs held him down by pressing on his shoulders, and Aragorn suddenly felt his arms forced behind his back. Coarse rope was wound around his wrists and a thick branch placed behind his arms and at the inside of his elbows, before it was secured with more rope. Gasping when the orcs gave the rope another tug, Aragorn tried not to think of what was to come. But all too soon his thoughts returned to his present situation when the orcs that held him down let go of him and stepped back.

Aragorn kneeled on the ground, facing the rocks before him. His whole body was tense and shook in slight tremors. He was afraid of what the orcs would do to him, and he hoped that they would be quick. Or that the berries he had eaten were deadly after all and he would be spared from this horrible fate. But neither were the berries deadly nor the orcs quick.

The first blow fell, and Aragorn gasped in pain. The orc had hit him right between his shoulder blades, and Aragorn toppled forwards. His arms, bound to the branch, did not allow him any measure of balance, and Aragorn fell hard to the ground. He was dragged up almost immediately into his kneeling position. Another blow, to the right shoulder this time. Again he slumped forwards, again he was dragged back upright. Another blow, another and another. Aragorn lost all feeling for time, but strange enough, he counted each blow that was dealt. When at last the orcs seemed to tire of their game, they began not only to hit him with their fists, but also with their booted feet. Soon, Aragorn cried out in pain and tried to evade the blows, but the rocks in front of him effectively barred of any escape route.

Sobbing, Aragorn felt another foot slam into his side. He could take no more, he was at the end of his rope. Another blow fell, and Aragorn cried out in pure pain as he felt his knee shoot fire up and down his leg. One of the orcs had brought its club and was using it on his whole body. A blow scraped his right ear, and Aragorn felt the side of his head swell almost immediately. Red dots appeared in his vision, and when another blow fell, the red dots grew in number and he lost consciousness.

It felt as if he had not been unconscious for long, but it must have been many hours, for the sun stood low on the horizon when Aragorn woke next. He was still bound and lying next to the rocks. Aragorn tried not to move at all, for he did not want the orcs to know that he was awake, but he must have groaned or shifted, for a moment later a clawed hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and turned him around and onto his back. Aragorn stared up into the ugly face of an orc, and he could not suppress a shiver that crawled down his spine like tiny hairy spiderlegs. His whole body hurt as if he had tumbled down a very rocky slope, and his head still felt woozy.

The orc called something in his foul speech that made Aragorn flinch, and a moment later he was dragged to his feet by strong arms. The sudden change in position was almost too much for his body, and red flashes appeared before his eyes. He felt like fainting. Something that smelled terrible was held under his nose, and his head cleared somewhat. Blinking, Aragorn tried to focus his gaze on his surroundings, while he was pushed forwards. All around him orcs sneered and pointed at him, some spat at him and others tried to claw at his hair and clothing. Two orcs had taken him by the shoulders and where shepherding him through the crowd towards the middle of the clearing. Aragorn felt his stomach lurch when he saw what the orcs had prepared for him. Before he knew it, he was shaking his head and trying with all his might to escape the orcs's clutches.

The orcs laughed and shouted, and Aragorn felt panic rise in him. His brothers had told him much about orcs, but what he saw now made his blood freeze in his veins. He kicked and twisted, but to no avail. The orcs that held him merely laughed louder, before they pushed him forwards again, right towards the center of the clearing.

In the center, the orcs had stacked a huge fireplace while Aragorn had been unconscious. Branches, twigs and dry bushes had been piled together, a ring of stones around them. To both sides of the fire pit stood low trees, which were freed of their branches and bark. Both trees had been cut down and split in the middle, so that they were nothing more than fresh tree stumps. And next to them lay a thick stick, just like the ones one used to cook a rabbit on. Rope lay near the stick, and Aragorn had no doubt what it would be used to for. He would be roasted over the fire like an animal. A meal for the orcs. He only hoped that he would be dead by then, but judging by the sneers on the faces of the orcs, that was not their plan.

He was shoved towards the fire pit, where the orcs stopped, holding him upright between them. Aragorn did not know if he would have been able to stand on his own. His legs felt wobbly and his head dizzy, while he could barely see out of his right eyes; it was almost swollen shut. His chest hurt with every breath he took, and Aragorn knew that he had broken at least two ribs. When he thought back on the hits he had taken, he wondered why he was still alive. It had been horrible.

Suddenly, he was forcefully pulled from his dark thoughts by the leader of the orcs. The orc grabbed him by the chin and pulled his head around so that Aragorn had to look him right into the face. The orc sneered and laughed at the fear he saw in the young ranger's eyes.

"Enjoyed the game, human?" He said in his broken Westron, his tongue snaking out between his bloodless lips. Aragorn, said nothing.

"We will have a feast tonight." The orc said, while the pack laughed. "You are invited to join us. Actually, you are our main attraction." Spittle flew from the orcs lips, and his black teeth opened in a laugh. "But before the meal, we will have a bit more fun." With that said, the orc let go of Aragorn's chin.

In but moments the orcs holding him had shoved him to the ground once more. Claws ripped his tunic and shirt from his shoulders, unheeding that his arms and hands were still bound behind his back. As soon as the cold air hit his skin, Aragorn began to shiver uncontrollably, and he told himself that it was just the cold and not fear. Rough orc hands forced him down on his stomach and straightened his legs and arms, until he lay flat on the ground. Then, they wrapped thick rope around his wrists and ankles, before they stepped back.

Confused, Aragorn looked around, but dared not to move. All around him, the orcs moved to stand in small groups, each of the four groups gathered at either one of his hands or feet. And then the orcs picked up the other end of the rope that was wrapped around his limbs, and Aragorn knew what they would do. He shuddered, trying to pull his arms and legs towards his body, but it was to no use.

Upon a command of the leader, all four groups of orcs began to pull at the ropes. Aragorn's arms and legs were forced in four different direction and his whole body rose up from the ground until it was hanging in the air. Pain shot through his joints and Aragorn screamed loudly. The orcs laughed and pulled harder. Aragorn's right shoulder made an audible 'pop' sound, the joint was pulled from the socket and such a fire shot through the arm that Aragorn screamed even louder.

His world swam before his eyes, but the orcs were not finished yet. They gave a bit more rope, just enough so that he was resting back on the ground, before they all pulled cruelly and with force. Aragorn's already injured leg gave way and he felt his joint break free from its hold. The pain was enough to let him spiral towards unconsciousness again, but the orcs wanted to keep him awake. They let him down to the ground again until he had managed the pain, then pulled. It was a cruel game, and when Aragorn felt his other shoulder crunch, he prayed that it would stop soon. Valar, he could barely breathe…

'_Oh Legolas_', he thought desperately, '_I'm just glad that you are not here now. That you are safe my love_.'

The more unbearable the pain became, the more Aragorn thought of Legolas. Images of the Prince floated before his eyes, and he meant to hear his voice, whispering encouragements into his ears. If only Legolas was with him now, to help him, free him, just…hold him and tell him that everything would be all right. This was definitely not the way Aragorn had imagined to leave the world.

The orcs gave another strong pull, making Aragorn scream in pain like he had never done before. The world tiled upside down, blackness appeared in his vision, and his scream was cut off abruptly as he lost consciousness. Again, the orcs did not let him rest in peaceful oblivion. When he came to, Aragorn was lying on the ground near the fire pit. His legs were bound at the ankles and an orc was just finishing to bind his right arm to one of the cut tree trunks; Aragorn's other arm was bound behind his back with rope that wound around his chest.

Blinking sluggishly, Aragorn felt his whole body ache and burn with a vengeance. Never, ever before had he felt that miserable. And when he looked into the eyes of the orcs around him, he simply knew that his misery was not over yet, that there was more waiting for him. So, he was not very surprised when the orc leader approached him, a knife in his hand. The orc looked down on him, then kneeled on the ground. He placed the knife over the elbow of Aragorn's arm that was bound horizontal to the tree and in a line with the ground. With a dizzy head, Aragorn watched in confusion as another orc hurried towards them and placed a deep bowl under his outstretched arm. His confusion must have been written on his face, for the orc laughed loudly.

"We cannot roast you properly when we have not bled you." Yellow eyes glimmered in the evil face…and Aragorn understood a moment before the orc spoke next, "We could simply gut you, but we want to roast you alive. So much more fun." And then the orc made a deep cut at the inside of Aragorn's elbow. Immediately, warm, red blood spurted forth and dripped to the ground. The drops splattered into the bowl with a sickening wet sound.

Transfixed, Aragorn could only watch as more and more blood dripped to the ground. He barely felt any pain from this new injury, but that was not a comforting thought. They would not let him bleed to death…they wanted to hang him above the fire while he was still alive. He shivered. The bowl was rather quickly filled and the leader lifted it. Before Aragorn's eyes, he salted his '_men_', and then drank deeply from Aragorn's blood. Gagging, Aragorn turned his head away. He heard the leader place the bowl back on the ground, but he did not look up, this was just too horrid to be true.

"Light the fire, ready the rope! We will eat man-flesh tonight!" The leader screamed, and his pack roared in approval.

To be continued.

**Another cliffy I fear. Mwuahaha. Revies make me write faster! haha**


	9. Rescued?

**I want to thank everyone who reviewd! Thanks so much! So, since you all revwied so nicely, I sat down and wrote, as I had promised. Here is the new chapter, enjoy!**

Chapter 9: Rescued?

The horses of the elves raced over the open plains towards the forest. Grass and earth flew through the air behind them, and still their riders hastened them ever onwards. There was one they needed to reach, needed to safe from certain death…if he was still alive.

Among them, Legolas leaned low over the neck of his horse. His faithful mare had, in its fear, followed the other horses out of the forest, and he was thankful for it. For it not only meant that his horse was still alive, but that he could chase towards the woods now as fast as the wind. Aragorn needed him, his friend depended on him….his lover trusted him to safe him. When Legolas saw the first dark trees rise at the horizon, he felt his heart beat faster in his chest.

'_Not long now Estel_', he thought, '_I am coming to rescue you, love._'

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Aragorn felt the orc leader move about him, but he was way too tired to lift his head by now. The orcs had made sure that the wound in his arm did not clot but bleed freely. He had lost much blood, and he had started to feel very light-headed and dizzy. With every drop that splashed into the bowl , he felt the world move away from him a bit more, and Aragorn knew that soon, he would have lost so much blood that there would be no return. In a way, it was a comforting thought. Maybe the orcs would kill him before they put him above the fire, that was by now burning brightly.

He was so tired, so exhausted. Aragorn's thoughts moved from one topic to the next, without him ever remembering what he had been thinking at all. But again and again Legolas's face danced before his eyes, and a warmth filled his body from head to toe. Legolas…

Had someone told him a year ago that he would fall in love with the Prince, he would have laughed at him. But things had changed, so much so. And oh, he did not regret ever having let Legolas into that tent last winter. His life had changed to the better since that night, he had changed, too. Life had been so much more happy, filled with laugher and joy…love. Even in his almost delirious state, Aragorn smiled faintly when he saw an image of a laughing Legolas before his eyes. Oh, he loved that smile of him…

Suddenly, clawed fingers grabbed him by the chin and tiled his head upwards. Aragorn saw nothing but a floating dark shape, and he closed his eyes. Dimly he was aware that the rope that held his arm to the tree was cut, that he was lifted up and dragged nearer towards the fire. Apparently it was time for him to be roasted. Strange enough, that thought no longer filled him with fear…it would soon be over.

The orcs let go of his arm and he slumped to the ground in a motionless heap. Something hard was pressed against his back, his arms were pulled back, his legs stretched out. Rope was wound around his entire body, but Aragorn did not resist the claws that hurt him. He was so tired...

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Like a shadow he crept through the woods, silent and almost invisible. For weeks he had followed the trail of the group of elvish riders, all the way from the woods surrounding Imladris, over the Misty Mountains and down the slopes of the mountains. Never before had he crossed the Hithaiglin on foot, and the snow on the paths had made his journey a perilious one. Hunger and thirst had tortured him, cold and wind followed him wherever he went. But he had persisted, had walked on, had never even looked back. For the one he was following was in front of him.

Lithdal could not help but smile in reminiscence when he thought back to the day it finally happened. After all those months of waiting. One brisk morning, when he had been sitting in one of the trees surrounding the hidden valley of Imladris, just outside the border, he had seen a small group of riders leaving the valley. Lithdal had seen many riders enter and leave the valley, he had waited and waited….he knew that Legolas would sooner or later leave for home. Surely the King would call his only son back.

And then Legolas had finally left the protected valley to journey back. Oh, how Lithdal had wanted to kill the Prince right there and then, just shoot him from his horse and be done with it! This elf had tried to take away what was his. This elf was the reason that Aragorn did not even look at him, that Aragorn was not free to love him, to come to him. Legolas must die, and then Aragorn would be free to join him, to go with him, give himself to him…

But no, wait! Lithdal had seen someone riding at the Prince's side and that stilled his hands. A human…Estel…

Oh, Lithdal still remembered the frantic beating of his heart at the sight of the young man. He only needed to close his eyes to be able to see Aragorn's face, every feature, every detail. The memory of elves was faultless, and Lithdal had thought of Aragorn every single day, ever since he had been forced to leave Rivendell. He knew that the young human had deep feelings for him, he had known that since the first kiss they had shared. Aragorn loved him, Lithdal had no doubt about that. It was only Legolas who stood in their way to be happy together…at least for a while. Lithdal knew that he sooner or later would tire of Aragorn, just like he always did, but still…until then….

So, Lithdal had followed the group of riders ever since he had spotted them. He had no horse, no provisions, and so he had soon lost sight of them. But he was a good hunter, and the group had made no attempt to hide their traces. It had been so easy to follow them. It had been even easier as soon as they had reached the mountains, for the riders had to slow down considerably, while he had hastened onwards. He knew that he was not far behind them, maybe a day or two, but not more.

Lithdal jumped to the next tree, his feet barely touching the branches as he hastened on. Being an elf, a strange feeling of danger had lain itself over his senses ever since he had entered this wood, and he wondered why the warriors from Rivendell had entered at all. Had they not felt the evil that lurked here? It was long past dusk when Lithdal suddenly heard harsh voices. Stopping in his tracks immediately, he tilted his head to listen. His almost white hair fell across his shoulders, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the surrounding darkness. He could see nothing but trees, but his ears told him that danger was near. Orcs…

Slowly, Lithdal crept forwards through the trees. With nimble fingers he reached behind him and pulled his self-made bow from his shoulders. He had chosen to use a black wood for his arrows, like shadows itself, and he was proud of his handiwork. He had hoped to kill Legolas with these arrows, but if he could get rid of some orcs instead, so be it.

But what Lithdal saw when he finally reached the source of the noise made his blood first turn to ice in his veins, and then boiling hot. At first, he could not believe what his eyes were showing him, but then the group of orcs he was watching shifted, and his keen gaze fell on the person in their midst. It was a human, a ranger….Aragorn…

Lithdal watched with horror and anger as the motionless form of the man was cut loose, dragged over to the fire and then dropped ungracefully in a heap on the ground. The orcs laughed and howled in glee. When they proceeded to bind the young man onto a thick branch, Lithdal felt something snap inside of him. No-one but him touched Aragorn. No one!

Faster than a human eye could watch he nocked an arrow, aimed and let go. The arrow whizzed through the air, deadly and silent. The orcs never knew what hit them. Before they even realized that they were under attack, Lithdal had already killed five of them. He switched position and jumped from tree to tree, invisible to the orcs, and killed even more of them. Arrow after arrow whizzed, screams rendered the air and blood drenched the ground. It was over quickly and soon all the orcs lay dead on the ground. Breathing heavily, Lithdal looked down on the massacre, but he felt nothing. His blood rushed through his veins, pulsed in his ears…he was shaking slightly. And then, his eyes fell on the still form of Aragorn, and he cried out softly.

In but a few seconds he was down from the tree he was standing on and kneeling at the young ranger's side. "Estel? Estel, can you hear me?" Lithdal drew his knife and cut the ropes that bound the man, then gently turned him onto his back. He gasped, the side of Aragorn's face was bruised and swollen badly, one eye almost completely swollen shut. Cuts and abrasions showed clearly on the naked chest, and Lithdal slowly traced his fingers down the obviously broken ribs. "Oh Estel, what have they done to you?"

To his surprise, Aragorn groaned and his eyelids fluttered. "Estel, can you hear me love?" Aragorn turned his head, but did not open his eyes. And that was when Lithdal saw the deep cut on the man's arm. Shocked, the elf cut some strips of fabric from his tunic and bound the wound. Placing his hand against Aragorn's cheek, he looked down on the man, "Estel?"

Aragorn groaned again, then blinked his eyes open, looking directly at Lithdal.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Legolas and the group of elvish riders passed the first tree line and rode on into the direction that Legolas showed them. Soon, however, they dismounted and ran through the trees. They were fast and silent, and they were fuelled by the desire to come to the rescue of one they held dear. They knew they were near….

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Groaning, Aragorn felt someone lean over him, lift his arm and bind the deep cut. And someone spoke, a voice he knew only too well. Confused, Aragorn tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were so heavy and he was so tired, all he wanted to do was sleep. Someone touched his face, caressed his cheek. Now even more confused, Aragorn tried with all his might to open his eyes. Slowly, his eyelids slid open. His gaze was fuzzy and the world swam before his eyes.

"All is well now, Estel. You are safe." The voice said somewhere above him.

Aragorn could not see clearly, and all he saw was a lithe figure with light skin and shiny hair. Of course, his tired and fuzzy mind supplied the images Aragorn associated with these details, and he breathed tonelessly, "Legolas…"

The face above him shifted, seemed to tense, but Aragorn felt his eyelids drift shut again. Valar, he was tired. A moment later, Aragorn felt hands on his body, cutting loose the last ropes around his wrists and ankles. He smiled faintly…Legolas had come to safe him at last. With this thought, Aragorn let darkness claim him, safe in the knowledge that all would be well now.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Lithdal seethed. Aragorn had not recognized him, had called him by the name of that vermin Legolas. His knife shook as he cut the last rope from around Aragorn's left ankle. Where was that Princeling now, anyway? Was he here to rescue Aragorn? No, he had probably fled as soon as he had seen the orcs, that cowardly piece of filth! Lithdal shook so heavy with suppressed anger that he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. He had saved Aragorn, had rescued him from the orcs! Aragorn owed him now.

Suddenly, Lithdal snapped his head up…there were people in the forest. Someone was coming, and quickly so. Listening, Lithdal heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps…elvish footsteps. A curse sprang to his lips. It seemed that the warriors from Rivendell were near; he needed to leave.

His eyes burning with despair and 'love', Lithdal gazed down at Aragorn. Oh, how he wanted to take the man with him. He could, maybe…but the human was injured badly, he was still bleeding, he would leave a trace behind. No, he could not take him with him, it was too dangerous. They would hunt them down and find them and then take Aragorn away from him again. It almost broke his heart, but Lithdal tugged his knife back into his belt; he would leave without the man.

One last time, Lithdal let his long fingers caress down the man's cheek. Leaning down, he kissed Aragorn on the mouth, as long as he dared, before he jumped to his feet and vanished into the dark forest. He would come back later to take what was his.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Legolas crouched in the underbrush and spied through the dry branches. To his left and right, as well as above him, the warriors of Imladris were sneaking up on the camp. They had spotted the orange glow of fire a few moments before, and were right now advancing on the enemy. They were so close now that Legolas wondered why they could hear nothing. No howls, no orcish laughter…and no screams. In Legolas mind he already saw the corpse of Aragorn lying motionless on the ground, and he shivered. His hand unusually sweaty for a Mirkwood warrior, Legolas glanced to his right, then left. The other elves nodded. They all counted silently to three, then charged!

One, two, three…more and more elves burst through the trees, bows and swords at the ready. But the sight that met their eyes made them stumble and stop in their tracks. Letting his twin knives fall to his sides, Legolas gazed around with wide eyes. The orcs were all dead. There was no doubt in his mind that they had found the camp of the orcs; it was all there. A fire, axes, clubs and spears, bowls with ugly looking food and dead animals. But the orcs…they were all dead. Confused, Legolas stepped up to the nearest dead orc and looked down into the broken yellow eyes. A long, black arrow protruded from the orcs neck, another from its stomach. Ripping the arrow out, Legolas examined it for a second, then threw it away, even more confused. What had happened here? His eyes roamed the camp, and suddenly he saw something that made his heart freeze in his chest.

"Estel!"

No even realizing that he had shouted the name aloud, Legolas raced towards the crumbled figure on the ground, right near the fire pit. Even from the distance he could see that Aragorn was incredibly pale, his dark hair contrasting starkly against the white skin. Flying, Legolas fell to his knees beside the man, threw his knives to the ground and took Aragorn's hand in his hands. "Estel? Can you hear me?"

Aragorn did not move, and in his fear, Legolas pressed his ear against the young man's chest to hear if his heart was still beating. Legolas was relieved when he heard a weak heartbeat. Another elf crouched down beside them, sifting through a pouch on his belt, but Legolas ignored him for the time being. All that mattered at the moment was Aragorn. And oh, how poorly he looked!

Aragorn had lost his shirt, and his chest and arms were littered with dark bruises and scratches. Deep purple marks shone above his ribs, and Legolas feared that some were cracked, or broken. He only hoped that the fractured bones had not punctured the lungs. Legolas gazed at Aragorn's pale face. There, too, he saw dark bruises, stretching from the high cheekbones all the way down to his chin. Feeling his heart race in sympathy, Legolas reached out and let his fingers trace down Aragorn's face, "Estel? Estel?" But the man did not stir, and Legolas frowned when he noticed that Aragorn's skin was so cold to his touch. Should Aragorn not feel warm, despite the fact that he lost his shirt? He was lying near the fire, after all.

Only then did Legolas realize that Aragorn's lips were of a slightly bluish color, and that his skin was not only pale, but white as snow. Something was not right…Letting his eyes scan every inch of Aragorn's body, Legolas tried to find an open wound, something that would explain the paleness, but he found none. Only a cut on his arm, but it was only bleeding sluggishly. The bandage that wound around the cut seemed to have almost stopped the bleeding. The bandage….

Legolas touched the piece of fabric in confusion. He looked at the other elf who had kneeled down on Aragorn's other side and had already begun to clean the bruises. Obviously the elf was trained in the healing arts. "Have you bound this wound?" Legolas asked, and the other elf shook his head.

"No, I have not. And neither have I cut his bonds." The elf pointed towards the cut rope that lay near Aragorn, and then to the rope burns on Aragorn's wrists. "Someone was here before us."

Legolas was confused, but at the moment, he was only glad that they had found Aragorn and that he young human was still drawing breath. While the warriors checked if the orcs were truly dead and secured the camp, Legolas and the other elf treated Aragorn's injuries. Besides the cut and the bruises, the orcs had dislocated Aragorn's right shoulder and left leg. While two elves held Aragorn down, the elf who had helped Legolas treat Aragorn reset the joints. It was a horrible, crunching sound, and Legolas meant to hear it even long after the arm had been bound to the chest and the leg straightened. The pain of setting his limbs had woken Aragorn, but he was not coherent and had fallen back into unconsciousness quickly.

When the worst of the wounds had been taken care of, the elves spread cloaks over Aragorn's shivering form and began to make a litter for him. They would leave this camp as soon as possible, for the stench of the orcs was terrible to their noses. And although none of them said it, they all felt that something was not right with this place. Who had killed the orcs? Who had treated Aragorn's wound? They had no answers, and it troubled them.

Legolas never left Aragorn's side. He placed the man's head in his lap and held him close, trying to warm him. Aragorn shivered and shook as if he was incredibly cold, and once more Legolas wondered why the man looked as if he had lost a lot of blood. Surely he was not bleeding internally? If he was, there was probably nothing they could do out here. Even for his father's healers in the Palace it was difficult to stop internal bleeding. Gazing worriedly at his friend, Legolas wished for the other elves to hurry. This place scared him.

Legolas let his gaze travel over the dead orcs. All of them had been shot by black arrows, and some of them had been felled by two or even three of the deadly projectiles. There were no other corpses in this clearing, no other arrows or weapons. Legolas knew that the elves had looked for footprints, but that they had found none. Frowning, Legolas shook his head and was just to turn his look back at Aragorn, when something shiny caught his gaze. Looking closer, Legolas saw a wooden bowl lying on the ground not that far from where he sat. The bowl stood on the ground and it seemed to be filled with water. No…not water. Legolas felt sick. The bowl was filled with bright red blood. Human blood. Aragorn's blood. The blood had spilled over the rim and dried there in red rivulets. The surface of the sea of blood was shiny and almost white, while Legolas could see a deep red light shining from inside the bowl. He turned his head away and closed his eyes so that he would not throw up. When he had calmed down, his eyes found the deep cut on Aragorn's arm. As if they were pieces of a puzzle Legola's mind brought Aragorn's paleness, the deep cut and the bowl together, and Legolas felt his heart clench. The orcs had watched while Aragorn had bled to death, had probably even drunken his blood right in front of his eyes. It was the only explanation, and Legolas instinctively held Aragorn closer. He felt sick.

He should not have left the man. He should have stayed with him. Had he not promised that he would never, ever again leave Aragorn like he had done in the cave just a few weeks ago? Legolas bowed his head and felt his eyes burn with shame. Again, he had left Aragorn alone. What kind of friend and lover was he, if he ran away every time things turned rough?

Suddenly, Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up. It was the same elf who had helped him treat Aragorn. "We are ready to leave, Prince Legolas."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Aragorn woke when the sun was nearing the horizon already. The elves had left the dark forest behind and had made up camp at the bank of the Anduin. The water splashed lazily against the shore, a melody of pureness and comfort. It was cold so close to the water, but the elves did not feel it, and they had made a fire to warm the ailing human.

During the day, they had extensively discussed the scene in the forest, but they had found no answers. The arrows that had killed the orcs had been made of a black wood and smoothed expertly, while the feathers used had been that of grey wild geese. Had they not known better, they would have said that another pack of orcs had killed the one who had captured Aragorn, but orcs were not fond of arrows, and never had the elves seen orcs make such fine arrows. Maybe it had been dwarves or Dark Elves. They did not know, but they were thankful that whoever it was had saved Aragorn. The elves sat near the fire, staring into the gathering gloaming, when Aragorn stirred for the first time.

Immediately, Legolas was at his side. "Estel? Can you hear me?" Taking hold of Aragorn's hand, Legolas gazed intently at Aragorn's pale face. The man had shivered for hours, before he had finally stilled and seemed to fall into a deep slumber instead of unconsciousness.

Groaning, Aragorn blinked his eyes open. He tried to focus his gaze, but Legolas could tell that he could not bring the world into sharp focus. Reaching behind him, Legolas took the cup full of warm tea that they had kept close to the fire. Pressing the cup gently against the young ranger's lips, Legolas urged him to drink, "Drink, Estel, it will make you feel better." Aragorn drank a few sips, before he turned his head away.

"Legolas?" He whispered, his voice so weak.

"Aye, it is me, mellon nin." Legolas said and gently tucked a strand of dark hair behind Aragorn's ear. "You are safe now, Estel. But you are hurt badly and need to rest."

Aragorn nodded and closed his eyes again. When Legolas thought that he had already fallen asleep again, Aragorn spoke softly, "You came back, you saved me."

"Aye, I came back. Now try to sleep, Estel." Legolas stroked Aragorn's cheek until the man had fallen asleep, then sat back and stared into the fire. Indeed, he had come back, but it had not been him who had saved Aragorn from the orcs. If he only knew what had happened in the forest.

Legolas gazed over his shoulder into the direction of the forest. A malice seemed to lie over the distance, and Legolas felt an icy shower crawl down his spine. Why did he have the feeling that they had woken some dark danger in those woods? Not able to explain his feelings, Legolas turned his gaze back to the fire, as if the flames could chase his dark musings away.

To be continued.


	10. Epilogue

**A/N: So, here is the last chapter/Epiloge to this story. I thank you all for the reviews and the support. Without you, I would never have written this story. •bows head before you all•. **

Chapter 10: Epilogue

They crossed the Anduin at the Old Ford a day later, followed the Old Forrest Road for a short while before they turned North. Upon an unspoken agreement, none of them ever mentioned the dark forest and the orcs, and had it not been for Aragorn's injuries, it could all have been a very bad dream.

Aragorn rode in front of Legolas, sleeping most of the time during the first few days. The blood loss was affecting him more than the broken ribs or dislodged limbs. The first day after the rescue, Legolas feared that Aragorn would die from the trauma after all, but the young ranger pulled through this newest horrible experience with surprising resilence. After he had drunken a cup of warm stew and downed half a cup of the elvish _miruvor_, his face had gotten back some color and his constant shivering had stopped. Now, four days after the incident, he had recovered enough to keep awake for a few hours at least.

Sitting in front of Legolas and leaning back against the strong chest, wrapped securely in a thick cloak, Aragorn let his thoughts wander freely. He was more dozing than actually awake, but he did not mind. His ribs hurt with every step the horse took, although he knew that Legolas rode slowly and tried to pick an easy route. His arm was still bound tightly to his chest and his leg hurt immensely, which threw him off balance and forced Legolas to hold him even more tightly. Not that Aragorn would complain…

From the warm sunlight on his face, Aragorn deemed that it was late afternoon. The grassy plains around him smelled of autumn, of fouling leaves and wet moss, while the birds sung overhead of the approaching winter. Indeed, had it not been for the pain he was feeling, he would have found the circumstances almost perfect. For a few more minutes he just sat there, secure in Legolas's arms, but then the pain in his body became too intense. Without opening his eyes, Aragorn said softly, "Tell me about your home, Legolas. Tell me about Mirkwood."

To his surprise, Legolas stopped his horse. When the elf spoke, Aragorn could hear the smile and the pride in his voice, "Just open your eyes, Estel, and see for yourself."

Aragorn blinked his eyes open, staring straight ahead. The last time he had looked around, they had travelled over grassy plains and the forest of Mirkwood had only been a shadow at the horizon. What he now saw, took his breath away.

Before him, as far as the eye could see, high trees could be seen. They were so high that Aragorn had to tilt his head backwards to see the tree tops. He saw brown and green and yellow and red and grey! So many colors that he simply knew that he did not know all their names. Birds sat in the branches, one stranger than the other, their songs mysterious and familiar at the same time. Bushes and flowers grew between the mighty tree trunks, lichens and moss covered the trees, and air roots hung down to the ground. And while Aragorn could see the first trees perfectly well, his eyes could not penetrate the tree line. It was as if the forest was not revealing its secrets to one who stood outside. One needed to enter to open the treasure box and see all that Mirkwood had to offer.

Suddenly, Legolas's mouth was at his ear, "Welcome to Mirkwood, Estel." And he kissed Aragorn sweetly on the cheek, too quick for anyone to see.

The End.

•sigh• This was the end of this series. Yes, sad but true. But don't worry, the next story is already in the making, and I will post the next story next week. I haven't decided on a name yet, but you can find it under my account, as usual. It will give you answers to the questions, such as:

Will they find out that Lithdal was the one who rescued Aragorn? •gasp• Will Aragorn tell Legolas that he ate the berries? •bites nails• What will Mirkwood be like? •think think• And what will King Thranduil say to their relationship? •uh oh•

Stay tuned and find out in the next installment. Until then, farewell! •waves happily•


End file.
